Next to Telarian rode a star elf woman not liveried as a Knight, though she rode a Knight's horse, and was herself armed and armored as a warrior.

"Cynosure, who is that woman?"

"Delphe, I know her, for I once served with her. She is Kiril Duskmourn," replied the sentient idol. "She was Keeper of the Outer Bastion before Telarian. I aided her as I aid you and Telarian now."

Delphe's eyes went round. "Kiril!" She had assumed the former Keeper long dead. What strange route had brought her to Telarian's conniving side?

The pitch of Cynosure's voice rose slightly as he added, "And the blade sheathed at her side is none other than Angul, the Blade Cerulean."

"By the Sign!" she gasped. "If she yet carries that relic, why hasn't she already sundered Telarian's head from his shoulders? Surely Angul can scent an agent of the Traitor!"

"They seem to have reached an accord."

"That makes no sense," Delphe snapped.

She saw Kiril speak, and Telarian nod in agreement. No sound came through, but it seemed Cynosure was correct; the two were on friendly terms. Delphe blinked, groping unsuccessfully for some explanation of the relationship the mirrors displayed.

"Could it be," wondered Cynosure, "that the proximity of Nis confuses Angul's senses? The dark blade encompasses what was once a portion of itself. The dark, twisted portion, granted, but possibly enough to act as a mirror—Angul sees only itself in its amoral twin.",

Delphe rubbed her chin, considering. Cynosure's conjecture was a real possibility. And if true .. . then Kiril wasn't truly in collusion with Telarian. Indeed, perhaps she rode with the diviner due to misinformation. Unless Kiril and Angul were now the Traitor's pawns—an unlikely event—they believed whatever lies Telarian fed them.

"Cynosure, I need to talk with Kiril. Immediately. Preferably without the Keeper of the Outer Bastion hearing our conversation. Is that possible?"

"I can try, Delphe."

*   *   *   *   *

"Telarian, ask the Knights to pause. An idea occurred to me," said the former Keeper who rode at his side.

Telarian called a halt and warned the vanguard, "Do not advance until I give the word!" The Knights prepared themselves for a charge up the slope and into Stardeep proper via the Parade Hall.

"What idea?"

For answer, Kiril turned in her saddle and called back along the narrowing tunnel, "Raidon Kane, can we speak?"

The odd-looking half-elf who'd displayed amazing martial skill walked forward, his face the picture of calm acceptance, as always. Telarian frowned.

"Raidon, we're close enough to Stardeep's heart that you

might be able to use your mother's forget-me-not to bypass its defenses."

Raidon nodded, gave Telarian an appraising glance, and withdrew an amulet from beneath the collar of his silk jacket.

"A Cerulean Sign!" gasped Telarian. Alarm skittered through his mind. How had he missed that?

"Yes," agreed Kiril, "Raidon keeps a Sign, for him a family heirloom. In any case"—she waved away the questions forming on Telarian's lips—"with a Sign, we can wrench Stardeep's point-to-point transfer system from Cynosure long enough to deliver ourselves directly to Delphe."

"An excellent idea," exclaimed Telarian. "Let me see, and I shall attempt to do as you suggest." He held his hand out to the half-elf. Raidon looked askance at him, making no move to comply.

Kiril shook her head, said, "Raidon has held the Sign for years—it is firmly attuned to him, and him alone. You'd have no chance of using it without a lengthy bonding period, and we don't have time for that."

True, of course. He just wanted the Sign out of the hands of someone over whom he had no leverage. And the appearance of such a potent bane against the Traitor was, again, not something he had foreseen. Anxiety, his old friend, took his cold palm in its own unsettling grip.

Kiril continued. "Even without training, Raidon should be able to use it now that we're so close. Try it," she bid the half-elf. "Try to visualize the seams of arcane energy that infuse Stardeep. Try to . . . mentally pluck one and bring it to you."

Raidon's eyes unfocused slightly, and he said, "I sense something of what you say. And"—he looked up, pointing with his free hand—"a questing shaft of light even now reaches out to us. It... is here!"

Telarian choked.

A voice rang out—Delphe's voice. It said, "Kiril Duskmourn, gone from Stardeep these long years. Why have you thrown in with this deserter of the Cerulean Sign's ideals, he who even now plots to overthrow centuries of captivity and release the Traitor?"

*   *   *   *   *

Kiril started on hearing the voice. Delphe's voice, she supposed. So this was the woman who had defiled the oath and sought to aid the Traitor? She didn't sound insane. Of course, the truly mad rarely did, until you drew them out and exposed the foundations of their reasoning.

"Muddle-minded witch," declared Kiril, a sneer coming to her face, "don't insult me with your lunatic imprecations. What promise did the Traitor make that you'd join him in his defilement?" As she spoke, the swordswoman looked Raidon in the eyes and gestured sidewise with her head. She asked a question with her movement; could the monk figure out how to trigger a transfer? Perhaps she could keep Delphe distracted with meaningless babble. The demented enjoyed describing their aims, perhaps to justify a guilty conscience, or so stories suggested.

Raidon's brows furrowed in concentration as he gazed into the symbol on his amulet.

A disbelieving gasp came from thin air. Then Delphe said, "You believe I've thrown in with the Traitor while you stand with Telarian, whose mind is poison and whose hands are stained with the blood of Empyrean Knights?"

"Yes, I stand with him, but don't waste your breath with falsehoods and ravings. I know your mind has cracked. Your lies stain my ears, and the weak, craven cowardice I hear in your voice is near to making me vomit!"

Despite actual rancor, Kiril was more concerned with the monk's progress. She watched as Raidon continued to stare into the Sign. A faint, bluish glow woke within the potent trinket. Raidon was accomplishing something!

Delphe's voice came back, heated but under control. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps—just perhaps—Telarian is the one who has become the agent of the Traitor? Perhaps he 'stains your ears.' What do you say to that?"

"Unlikely." Kiril snorted as she glanced at Telarian. The diviner rolled his eyes. Kiril continued. "Because he carries half of Nangulis's soul in a blade all his own. It was Nangulis, if you remember, whose sacrifice is the reason the Traitor doesn't already walk free." Kiril wanted to urge Raidon to hurry, but she didn't want to make Delphe suspicious. If Delphe knew what Raidon attempted, she could ask Cynosure to deactivate point-to-point transfers.

"Kiril," came the response, incredulity clear in the tone, "recall to mind the reason not all of Nangulis's soul was incorporated into Angul. Only those parts aligned with duty, purity, and self-sacrifice for a higher ideal were capable of empowering the Blade Cerulean—as you must remember. Think! It is not simply the 'unused' parts of Nangulis's soul that embodies Nis. Nis is composed of all the hidden, repressed, nihilistic portions of Nangulis, urges and neuroses all mortals share. When Telarian forged Nis, he drew from all those negative aspects and created a blade fit for a sociopath."

Kiril frowned and looked again at Telarian. The man shrugged at the ridiculousness of Delphe's claim. He whispered, "She merely seeks to sow uncertainty. We should advance." Despite his words, Kiril saw a tightening about the man's eyes.