An icy gust of wind snatched the breath from her lips as a spiderweb of glittering frost spread across a nearby heap of stones. A dark blot appeared in the air above the rock. In moments, the swirling patch of darkness resolved itself into a ghostly knight with smoldering eyes.

"In another mile, the walls of this ravine you follow will rise into sheer cliffs," Serafi said in his sepulchral voice. He pointed to one side with an ethereal gauntlet. "Follow this gully to the north. It will take you out of the ravine and up to a ridge where you may ride swiftly."

Then the spectral knight vanished, a chill gloom lingering in his wake.

"Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?" Ferret muttered glumly.

Mari cast a look at Morhion. He sat astride his dark stallion, Tenebrous, head bowed. Over the last several days, as they rode deeper into the High Moor, Serafi appeared from time to time, warning them of obstacles or steering them toward easier paths. The mage had told the others of the pact he had forged with Serafi to save Caledan's life. Yet Mari could not help thinking there was something else beneath the mage's brooding. Morhion's pact with the spectral knight, forged ten years earlier beneath the fortress of Darkhold, didn't really explain the spirit's presence on this journey.

There was no sunset that day—the iron gray clouds hid all traces of the sun—but gradually the wan daylight faded, until Mari could barely see Ferret, who led the way astride his bony roan stallion. They made camp in a low hollow that offered some protection from the bone-numbing wind. Supper that evening was only dried fruit, nuts, and hardtack, for they dared not light a fire. They had seen no signs of the shadevari since leaving Soubar, but there was no sense in making themselves any more conspicuous than necessary.

Morhion retrieved a leather-bound tome from Tenebrous's saddlebags. "I am going to study my spellbook," he said coolly. With a soft word, the mage conjured a tiny sphere of purple magelight. He sat on a rock, hunching over the book and shielding the faint illumination with his body to conceal it from prying eyes. "Would you play a song, Mari?" Kellen asked then. Out of habit, Mari had packed her lute in her saddle-bag, but she had not yet brought the instrument out on this journey. She had not felt like making music. Yet tonight the prospect seemed appealing. It might be good to let her mind drift on the forgetful strains of a song. She smiled at Kellen as she retrieved her lute. It was a beautiful instrument, fashioned of cherry inlaid with rosewood. Her adopted father, Master Andros, had made it for her. Its surface had been polished to a glowing patina with long years of use.

The ballad she sang told the story of a prince who fell in love with a maiden trapped in a witch's tower. The prince tried to climb the tower but fell into a hedge of thorns. The thorns scratched his face, blinding him, and the prince became a wandering beggar. Mari paused, her fingers hovering above the strings. Why had she chosen such a mournful song? Kellen had rested his head on her knee, listening. Now he looked up at her. "The poor prince," he murmured sadly "If only he had never fallen in love with the maiden."

At this, Mari shook her head fiercely. "Don't say such a thing, Kellen. It is never wrong to feel love. Besides, I have yet to finish the tale."

Strumming softly on the lute, she sang the remaining verses. After several years the witch died, and the maiden escaped from the tower. In the forest, she came upon a wretched beggar and realized that it was her prince. She cried bitterly, her tears falling on his face. Such is the power of love that her tears healed his eyes and restored his sight. They returned to the tower and lived there together to the end of their days.

Mari played a few final, wistful notes, then let her hands fall from the lute.

"Thank you," Kellen said quietly.

Ferret had finished repacking their supplies. "I am going to do a little scouting while there's still a shred daylight," the thief said.

Kellen hopped to his feet. "Can I come along?" he asked eagerly.

Ferret gave him a critical look. "Can you move without making a sound?"

Kellen chewed his lower lip. "I think I can," he decided, "if you show me how."

Ferret laughed at this. "I imagine you could at that. Come on then, if it's all right with Mari."

Mari nodded her assent—the boy could be no safer than with Ferret—and watched the two disappear into the gathering gloom. She turned to see Morhion watching her.

Mari sat down on the smooth rock beside the mage. "He is wise for a child," she said after a moment. "Kellen I mean."

Morhion stared into the deepening night. "Sometimes I think he is wiser than any of us."

She laughed softly. "You may be right."

At last the mage spoke again, his voice oddly wistful. "Do your truly believe what you told him, Mari? That it is never wrong to feel love?"

This seemed an unusual question for the usually reticent mage. Finally she nodded. "Yes, I do believe it."

A rueful smile touched his lips. "You are fortunate then. Would that I could believe in love so strongly as you."

Mari frowned in puzzlement.

"I mean…" The mage began, then shook his head. "But it is foolishness to talk about it. Forgive me." He started to stand.

"Wait," Mari said intently. "Why won't you tell me what you were going to say, Morhion? I thought… I thought we were friends."

His chill blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. "Are we?" His tone was not mocking; it was as if he were asking a question whose answer he truly did not know. "I am not…I am not certain I know what it is to be close to another person, Mari. It is a mage's lot to dwell in solitude.

Mari stared at the mage. What in Milil's name could he possibly mean? All at once, realization washed over her. How could she have been so blind? "Why Morhion?" she whispered. "Why have you never told me how you feel?"

The mage shook his head sadly. "How could I? You are the partner of my closest friend. How could I tell you that-" A bitter expression twisted his face into a sneer. Quickly, he rose. "I am sorry. I imagine that I must disgust you now."

Before he could move away, Mari stood and gripped his arm.

"You're wrong," she said fiercely. "Yes, I am surprised at your words. Maybe even shocked. The truth is, I really don't know what to think. But there is one thing I do know Morhion, and it is this: There can never be anything wicked in feeling love, whatever the priests in the temple might say. If there is one thing in all this world that is truly good, then it is love. And it is wrong to pretend that love does not exist."

He gazed at her, his blue eyes unreadable. "Perhaps you are right," he said finally. "Or perhaps not. It not matter now." A shadow crossed his handsome visage. "There is… something else I must tell you, Mari."

He spoke for a long time in low, measured words. An icy horror filled Mari's chest as she learned the hideous truth about Morhion's new pact with Serafi. It was spectral knight who had given the mage knowledge of the Shadowstar and Stiletto, but for the price of Morhion's own body.

"But how could you accept Serafi's offer?" Mari in disbelief.

Morhion shook his head somberly. "How could I refuse it?"

Mari clenched a fist. "Damn him, Morhion!" she choked hoarsely. "Damn him to the Abyss! Why must we always sacrifice everything for Caledan? Why?"

"Because we love him," Morhion said quietly.

It was true, and she knew it. As the anger drain of her, she sank back to the cold stone. Morhion joined her once more. For a time they sat in silence, while where in the distance a pair of mourning doves filled the night with their sweet lament.

*****

Kellen crept softly among the scattered heaps of rubble toward a dim shape. Night blanketed the moor, but a faint gray glow hovered on the air, giving just enough light to navigate by. Somewhere behind the thick clouds the moon had risen. Kellen concentrated on moving stealthily, and he was no more than three paces away when the dim form let out a surprised oath.