"I will be willing to swear the same oath for you."

"On your own, or on behalf of the other centaurs as well?"

"For all of us."

"You can speak for them?"

"I can."

"Very well. I'll do it if you will."

He looked back at Mouseglove, who was about to slip off among the trees.

"Stay put," he called back. "You're safe."

"For now," Mouseglove replied. But he returned.

Pol moved around the cataleptic centaur who stood between Stel and himself, destroying the spell which held him with a twisting motion of his hand as he passed. That one drew away, eyes shifting rapidly, until Stel spoke some reassurance.

"Tell me the words of the oath," Pol said, coming up before her.

"Place your hand upon the middle section of the rod, and repeat after me."

Pol nodded and complied.

As she began to speak the words, a series of dark strands knotted themselves about them. He felt a vaguely threatening force accumulating within them. When they had finished speaking the knots separated and drifted away, like small, dark clouds. One went to hover behind Stel. He felt such a presence behind himself, also.

"There," she said, passing the rod to him. "We have created our own dooms, should we betray one another."

They clasped hands.

"No problem then," Pol answered, smiling "and it's good to have some friends. I'd like to stay and visit, but now I've some monsters to rouse. Hopefully, I'll be back."

He turned away and fetched his guitar case.

"A weapon?" she asked as he raised it.

"No, a musical instrument. Maybe I'll be able to play it for you one day."

"You are really going to Rondoval now?"

"I must."

"Give me time to raise a force, to rid the place of your enemies. Now we are allies, it is our fight, too."

"Not necessary," Pol said. "They are up in the castle. My destination is far below it. Moonbird--my dragon--showed me a tunnel to the place. I'll go in that way and bypass the bastards. There is no need at all to deal with them now."

"Where does the tunnel open?"

"Down the slope, to the north. I'll have to do a little climbing but I foresee no real difficulties."

"--Unless your enemies see you and go after you in their flying boats."

He shrugged.

"There is always that chance."

"So I will take a small force and lead a diversionary assault from the south. Two of my males will bear you and your friend to the northern slope."

"The enemy has guns, which kill from a distance."

"So do arrows. We'll take no unnecessary risks. I am going to send runners now, to tell the others to arm and to bring them here. While we wait, I would like to hear your music."

"Okay. Me, too," said Pol. "Let's get comfortable."

"You were with him," Mark said to Nora, as they both leaned upon the railing to his roof garden. "What is his power, anyway, now he has that scepter?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking at the flowers. "I really don't know. I'm not even sure that he was absolutely certain. Or else he was being very close-mouthed."

"Well, I think it possible that he is dead. On the other hand, I've no idea how he got across the ocean as quickly as he did. He has something going for him. He was in my flier at one point--and it was shot down near Rondoval. Still...Supposing--just supposing--he is still alive? How would he attack me? What sort of forces might he bring?"

She shook her head and looked at him. His lens was a pale blue and he was smiling.

"I couldn't tell you, Mark," she said, "and if I could ..."

"You wouldn't? I'd guessed that much. It didn't take long did it? For you to fall in love with a flashy traveler with a good story?"

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"What else am I to think? We've known each other most of our lives. I thought we had something of an understanding. Then, practically overnight, you're in love with a stranger."

"I am not in love with Pol," she said, straightening. "Oh, it could happen, very easily. He's quick and strong--clever, attractive. But, really I hardly know him, despite what we've been through together. On the other hand, I thought that I knew you--very well--and now I see that I was mistaken about a great number of things. If you want honesty, rather than sweet words, I am not, at this moment, in love with anyone."

"But did you once feel that way about me?"

"I thought that I did."

He hammered his fist against the rail.

She laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's this lens, isn't it? This damned, ugly bug-eye!"

"Don't be silly," she said. "I wasn't talking about appearance. I was talking about what you are doing. You've always been different. You've always had a way with mechanical things. That in itself is hardly bad, but what you are doing--what you are planning to do--with your knowledge and your contrivances--that is."

"Don't let's go into it again."

She withdrew her hand.

"You asked me. If he still lives, Pol has to fight you--some way--now. Sometimes it almost seems that a conflict between the two of you was ordained before you both were born. Other times I've thought of it, though, it seemed that it need not be so. You could be friends. He is the closest thing you have to a relative. And it is probably that way for him, also. I will tell you what I told him. I feel like a pawn. You are jealous of him, and he will want to rescue me from you. I almost feel as if my life has been somehow manipulated to bring me into this position, to insure that a battle will occur. I wish that I'd never met either of you!"

She turned away. He guessed that she was crying, but was not certain. He began to extend his hand.

"Sir! Sir!"

A captain of his guard was rushing toward him. Scowling, Mark turned.

"What is it?"

"Castle Rondoval is under attack! The message just came through! Should we send reinforcements?"

"Who is attacking? How? What are the details?"

"There are none. The message was short, garbled. We are waiting for an answer."

"Divert all the nearest birds. Get me a picture of what's going on. I'll be down there shortly. We're going on alert."

He raised his hand and two guards, pretending to study the garden from its opposite end, immediately moved toward him.

"I'd wager your lover lives," he said, "and that this is his doing. At any rate, your talk of pawns has given me an idea. Guards! Take her away. Protect her. Watch her well. She may be of some use yet."

Turning on his heel, he headed toward the elevator. He did not look back.

Mouseglove moved with near-acrobatic skill up the final few meters of the cliff-face, hauled himself into the cave mouth, turned, stooped and assisted Pol.

"All right," he said then, "I am about to keep a promise. I vowed that if they would leave me alone, I would bring them back to Rondoval." He groped beneath his cloak and withdrew a parcel. "They did and I have. So here."

He handed the package to Pol.

"I don't understand. What is it?" Pol asked.

"The figurines of the seven sorcerers I stole from your father. As you gained sections of that scepter, they grew in power until finally they were able to control me. During the trip back here, I told you everything I had done, but I didn't tell you why. They are the reason. Surely, you don't think I'd go and play games with a feathered serpent for laughs? They are powerful, they can communicate if they want--and I have no idea what they are up to. Also, they are all yours now. Don't worry, though. A big part of their purpose in life seems to be taking care of you. I would try to learn more about them soon, if I were you."

"I wish I had time," Pol remarked, "but I don't. Not now." He secured the parcel at his belt and turned. The dragon-light sprang forth to dart before them. "Let's go."