The old woman seemed more than half mad, but she might be able to help them. "We're on a quest," Mari replied.

"Truly?" the old woman said caustically. "Well, if you are searching for a bad end, then your quest is over, for you've found that here."

Mari winced. That reply hardly showed a helpful attitude.

"My friend has been hurt," Kellen said gravely.

"And what makes you think I can do anything about it?" the old woman snapped.

Kellen didn't even blink. "I imagine that you're very wise, that's all."

The old woman grunted at this. "Well, you'd be right to imagine so," she said in a surly tone. "And my wisdom tells me that I am too old and far too weary to concern myself with a lot of meddlers and troublemakers. I would say farewell, but I suppose it would be wasted on you, so I'll say nothing at all." She started to draw away.

"Wait!" Kellen cried, reaching his hand toward the window.

The old woman froze. A hissing sound escaped her lips. At last she whispered in a voice filled with wonder and dread. "The child wizard…"

With swiftness surprising in one so old, she reached through the narrow opening and clutched Kellen's hand before he could pull away. She ran a gnarled finger over the puckered scar on his left palm. "So young, yet already marked by magic," she murmured in awe. "Of course. After all this time, I had dared to let myself forget. I waited so long, you see, but you never came. Finally I dismissed the prophecy as foolishness. And now, in the dark winter of my life, you have come at last." Her voice became a moan of despair. "But why have you waited all these years? Why have you come when I am so old, so weak, so tired?"

Kellen managed to pull his hand out of her gnarled grasp. He gave her a frightened look. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a wizard. Not yet, anyway."

The old woman laughed at this, an eerie sound. "But you will be. You will be a wizard the likes of which this world has never known. Ah, but do I have the strength to do what I must?" She fell silent.

Mari stepped forward. "Please, listen to me," she said earnestly. "You seem to know much I don't pretend to understand. Won't you help us, so we can talk with you more about… about this prophecy?"

The old woman hesitated, then vanished from the window,

Mari groaned in despair. Abruptly the old woman reappeared and thrust a hand through the window. "Here, place this on the mage's chest," she ordered.

Mari took the proffered object. It was a small black seed. She thought to question the old woman, then bit her tongue. This was not the time to annoy the stranger. She knelt before Morhion and unlaced his shirt, then placed the tiny seed on the pale flesh above his heart.

At first nothing happened. She traded skeptical looks with Cormik and Jewel. Perhaps the old woman was mad after all. Then Kellen whispered softly, "Look."

The seed was sprouting. As they watched in wonder, a small, dark purple leaf unfurled itself from the seed, and a root tendril snaked outward, plunging into the flesh of Morhion's chest. More leaves uncurled themselves, and the strange purple plant grew larger as its roots sank deeper into Morhion's body. The mage trembled, and his back arched off the stone beneath him.

"It's hurting him!" Mari cried out in horror, reaching to pull thee magical plant from his body.

"Stop!" the old woman commanded. Something in her voice made Mari freeze. "If you pluck the heartroot out now, your friend will surely perish."

Mari forced herself to remain still. There was nothing to do now but watch. The plant grew fuller, more lush. Its roots writhed like snakes beneath Morhion's skin. Its deep purple leaves began to throb in time to the mage's erratically beating heart. Morhion convulsed, his hands scratching reflexively against the black marble.

Suddenly his entire body went limp.

For a terrified moment Mari thought he was dead. She clasped a hand to Morhion's wrist. His pulse was strong and even.

Abruptly, the plant began to wither. Its purple leaves turned black and curled upon themselves. The stem broke, and the brittle plant crumbled as it fell to the floor. The only trace it left on Morhion's flesh was a tiny violet circle, and even this began to fade. The mage took in a deep, shuddering breath and sat up, eyes open wide. Immediately he grimaced, touching a hand tentatively to his wounded brow.

"What happened?" he asked in a dazed voice, and the others let out a collective sigh of relief.

*****

The witch's name was Isela, and as far as they could tell from the bits and fragments she told them, she had dwelt in the ruined city—she called it Talis—all her life. She left them for a brief time, only to return to the window with dried fruit, nuts, and a leather jug of water. The others accepted these gratefully, and thanked Isela when she told them she had retrieved and picketed their horses.

"Though I suppose we'll have little need of them if we cannot find a way to escape this trap," Morhion said darkly. Thanks to Isela's magic, the mage had largely recovered from the lightning strike. "I wonder what this prison was originally for. And the pyramid. Do you know, Isela?"

"I think I did once," she said wistfully. "I've forgotten so much… so much I wonder how I ever knew it all. It seems to me that the wizards who dwelt here long ago used the pyramid and the orb to defend Talis from its enemies. The orb remembered the touch of magic, and when the boy laid a hand upon it, it called down the lightning to protect the city. But you had no idea what was coming, and so were caught by the trap that would have served to guard the wizards of long ago." She paused, licking her thin lips. "There is a way to rotate the sphere, you know."

"How?" Mari asked intently.

"A wizard could do it." She gave Morhion a piercing look. "But you are too weak from the heartroot."

Morhion took a deep breath. "I'll try it," he said solemnly. "Tell me how."

"It would kill you," Isela said flatly. "That is not important." Anger flashed in his icy eyes. "We dare not delay our quest any longer. If the price is death, then I will pay it."

Isela gave a derisive snort. "A lot of good that would do your friends. Especially when there is one other who has the power." Her sharp gaze drifted toward Kellen.

"He's only a child," Mari said scornfully. "You would truly have him attempt something so perilous?"

"He has already faced grave peril once." Isela's gaze flickered back toward Morhion. The mage fell silent. "What do I need to do?" Kellen asked quietly. Mari started to protest, then halted. What choice did they have? All she could do was watch Kellen closely, and stop him if he appeared to be in danger.

"Close your eyes," Isela instructed in a low voice. "Imagine that you are not inside the sphere, but rather that the sphere is a small black orb you hold in your hand."

Kellen sat cross-legged and shut his eyes. After a moment, he spoke in a dreamy voice. "I can see it." He cupped his hand as if holding a ball. "Now, you must turn the orb a half-turn to the left."

"It's hard," Kellen protested, his brow furrowing. "Try!" Isela hissed. "You must try-!"

Kellen shook his head slowly. "No, it's too heavy," he said with a moan. "It's… it's crushing me…"

Alarmed, Mari started forward, but Morhion was faster. He knelt beside the boy and whispered in his ear. "Do not fight the weight of the sphere, Kellen. That is its magic you feel. Let that magic fill you."

"I can't," Kellen gasped. "It hurts…"

"Do not resist it," Morhion said in a chantlike voice. "Clear your mind. Imagine your body an empty vessel. Then let the magic fill you. It will not harm you if you do not fight it."

A spasm crossed Kellen's face, then his visage relaxed. "Yes…" he whispered. He moved his hands, and the sphere lurched into motion. The window—and Isela with it—vanished as the opening in the wall rotated. After a moment the sphere ground to a halt. Kellen's eyes flew open. "Did it work?" he asked breathlessly.