"Ours is no meaningless quest, " said Lamsar quietly, with respect. "We go to rescue Tanelorn."

"Tanelorn?" the man said softly. "Does Tanelorn still remain?"

"Aye, " said Rackhir, "and shelters tired men who are grateful for the rest she offers." Now he realised why the building had been familiar—it had the same quality, but intensified, as Tanelorn.

"Tanelorn was the last of our cities, " said the Guardian. "Forgive us for judging you—most of the travellers who pass through this plane are searchers, restless, with no real purpose, only excuses, imaginary reasons for journeying on. You must love Tanelorn to brave the dangers of the gateways?"

"We do, " said Rackhir, "and I am grateful that you built her."

"We built her for ourselves, but it is good that others have used her well—and she them."

"Will you help us?" Rackhir said. "For Tanelorn?"

"We cannot—it is not lawful. Now, refresh yourselves and be welcome."

The two travellers were given foods, both soft and brittle, sweet and sour, and drink which seemed to enter the pores of their skin as they quaffed it, and then the Guardian said: "We have caused a road to be made. Follow it and enter the next world. But we warn you, it is the most dangerous of all."

And they set off down the road that the Guardians had caused to be made and passed through the fourth gateway into a dreadful realm—the Ream of Law.

Nothing shone in the grey-lit sky, nothing moved, nothing marred the grey.

Nothing interrupted the bleak grey plain stretching on all sides of them, forever. There was no horizon. It was a bright, clean wasteland. But there was a sense about the air, a presence of something past, something which had gone but left a faint aura of its passing.

"What dangers could be here?" said Rackhir shuddering, "here where there is nothing?"

"The danger of the loneliest madness, " Lamsar replied. Their voices were swallowed in the grey expanse.

"When the Earth was very young'" Lamsar continued, his words trailing away across the wilderness, "things were like this—but there were seas, there were seas. Here there is nothing."

"You are wrong, " Rackhir said with a faint smile. "I have thought—here there is Law."

"That is true—but what is Law without something to decide between? Here is Law—bereft of justice."

They walked on, all about them an air of something intangible that had once been tangible. On they walked through this barren world of Absolute Law.

Eventually, Rackhir spied something. Something that flickered, faded, appeared again until, as they neared it, they saw that it was a man. His great head was noble, firm, and his body was massively built, but the face was twisted in a tortured frown and he did not see them as they approached him.

They stopped before him and Lamsar coughed to attract his attention. He turned that great head and regarded them abstractedly, the frown clearing at length, to be replaced by a calmer, thoughtful expression.

"Who are you?" asked Rackhir.

The man sighed. "Not yet, " he said, "not yet, it seems. More phantoms."

"Are we the phantoms?" smiled Rackhir. "That seems to be more your own nature." He watched as the man began slowly to fade again, his form less definite, melting. The body seemed to make a great heave, like a salmon attempting to leap a dam, then it was back again in a more solid form.

"I had thought myself rid of all that was superfluous, save my own obstinate shape, " the man said tiredly, "but here is something, back again. Is my reason failing—is my logic no longer what it was?"

"Do not fear, " said Rackhir, "we are material beings."

"That is what I feared. For an eternity I have been stripping away the layers of unreality which obscure the truth. I have almost succeeded in the final act, and now you begin to creep back. My mind is not what it was, I think."

"Perhaps you worry lest we do not exist?" Lamsar said slowly, with a clever smile.

"You know that is not so—you do not exist, just as I do not exist." The frown returned, the features twisted, the body began, again, to fade, only to resume, once more, its earlier nature. The man sighed. "Even to reply to you is betraying myself, but I suppose a little relaxation will serve to rest my powers and equip me for the final effort of will which will bring me to the ultimate truth—the truth of non-being."

"But non-being involves non-thought, non-will, nonaction, " Lamsar said. "Surely you would not submit yourself to such a fate?"

"There is no such thing as self. I am the only reasoning thing in creation—I am almost pure reason. A little more effort and I shall be what I desire to be—the one truth in this non-existent universe. That requires first ridding myself of anything extraneous around me—such as yourselves—and then making the final plunge into the only reality."

"What is that?"

"The state of absolute nothingness where there is nothing to disturb the order of things because there is no order of things."

"Scarcely a constructive ambition, " Rackhir said.

"Construction is a meaningless word—like all words, like all so-called existence. Everything means nothingthai is the only truth."

"But what of this world? Barren as it is, it still has light and firm rock. You have not succeeded in reasoning that out of existence, " Lamsar said.

"That will cease when I cease, " the man said slowly, "just as you will cease to be. Then there can be nothing but nothing and Law will reign unchallenged."

"But Law cannot reign—it will not exist either, according to your logic."

"You are wrong—nothingness is the Law. Nothingness is the object of Law. Law is the way to its ultimate state, the state of non-being."

"Well, " said Lamsar musingly, "then you had better tell us where we may find the next gate."

"There is no gate."

"If there were, where would we find it?" Rackhir said.

"If a gate existed, and it does not, it would have been inside the mountain, close to what was once called the Sea of Peace."

"And where was that?" Rackhir asked, conscious, now of their terrible predicament. There were no landmarks, no sun, no stars—nothing by which they could determine direction.

"Close to the Mountain of Severity."

"Which way do you go?" Lamsar enquired of the man.

"Out—beyond—to nowhere."

"And where, if you succeed in your object, will we be consigned?"

"To some other nowhere. I cannot truthfully answer. But since you have never existed in reality, therefore you can go on to no non-reality. Only I am real—and I do not exist."

"We are getting nowhere, " said Rackhir with a smirk which changed to a frown.

"It is only my mind which holds the non-reality at bay, " the man said, "and I must concentrate or else it will all come flooding back and I shall have to start from the beginning again. In the beginning, there was everything—Chaos. I created nothing."

With resignation, Rackhir strung his bow, fitted an arrow to the string and aimed at the frowning man.

"You wish for non-being?" he said.

"I have told you so." Rackhir's arrow pierced his heart, his body faded, became solid and slumped to the grass as mountains, forests, and rivers appeared around them. It was still a peaceful, well-ordered world and Rackhir and Lamsar, as they strode on in search of the Mountain of Severity, savoured it. There seemed to be no animal life here and they talked, in puzzled terms, about the man they had been forced to kill, until, at length, they reached a great smooth pyramid which seemed, though it was of natural origin, to have been carved into this form. They walked around its base until they discovered an opening.

There could be no doubt that this was the Mountain of Severity, and a calm ocean lay some distance away.

They went into the opening and emerged into a delicate landscape. They were now through the last gateway and in the Domain of the Grey Lords.