All the while he had been speaking, Daagor and Kalgalath and even Quirm had lashed their tails and flexed their claws as their fury had grown, and even at times had roared, for to command compliance, obedience, in a Dragon was intolerable, insufferable, not to be borne.

Yet in the end Black Kalgalath glanced once more at the leather bag in Quirm's possession and said, "We will consider your despicable demands and give you our answer on the morrow."

But the Dragons debated for nearly two weeks, and the mountains roared with wrath and rage. And some flew off in fury-Sleeth and Redclaw and Skail and others, Daagor among them.

At last Black Kalgalath and Silverscale came to the Wizardholt, Quirm between the two, the green Drake yet bearing the bag.

"This we will agree to, Mage," said Kalgalath.

"We will remove ourselves to remote places and limit our raids to that which is needed for sustenance-a horse, a cow, or other such now and again.

"We will not plunder unless we are plundered ourselves, though I cannot imagine a creature who would even attempt to do so.

"We will not seek to take treasures owned, yet treasures abandoned are fair game.

"We will not mix in the affairs of humans, Dwarves, Mages, or aught others, unless they first meddle in the affairs of Dragons, in which case we will be free to take our just retribution."

Black Kalgalath continued to detail that which the Dragons would accept and that which they would reject, and the Mage took their proposal back unto the Council.

Mages had not sworn the oath either-each side had their renegades. And so it was settled at last.

And the pledged Mages took the Dragonstone into the darkness of Black Mountain and locked it away in a deep vault, and as they had sworn they did not probe into its secrets at all… though some Mages beyond Black Mountain, Mages who had not taken the oath, would now and then meddle in the affairs of the Drakes.

And the oathbound Dragons took to their remote fastnesses and for the most part let the world be-but for an occasional stolen cow or horse-and peace reigned for millennia… except for the scattered ravages of the unpledged renegade Drakes, Daagor's savage plunderings among the worst.

But then one day it was discovered-virtually by accident-that the Green Stone of Xian had vanished, had disappeared from the vault; just when this might have occurred, none knew. And when they plied their Wizardly talents to reveal what had happened, and where the missing green stone now lay, to their dismay they discovered that the Dragonstone was completely unscryable, hence anything concerning it-past, present, or future- stood beyond the reach of their arcane arts.

And thus things stood until Arin of Blackwood came.

They sat in a small, remote, darkened chamber, where nought but a single candle burned, and that but a scanty taper. Arin's eyes were fixed on the flame as Lysanne spoke softly to her. Aiko knelt nearby on the dark stone floor. None else were present. Arin's eyes were heavy-lidded as Lysanne murmured gently, and at last they closed.

Lysanne set the candle aside, then turned to the Dylvana deep in an unforced trance.

"Can you hear me, Dara Arin?"

"Mmm," replied Arin.

"You may speak, Lady."

"Vi oren ana."

"Speak in the common tongue, Dara. Can you hear me?"

"I hear thee."

"Good." Lysanne glanced at Aiko. "Remember, child of Ryodo, all that you see and hear."

Aiko's black eyes glittered, and she nodded sharply once.

Now Lysanne turned back to Arin. "Dara, you too shall remember all that passes within. Do you understand?"

Slowly, Arin nodded.

"Good." Lysanne leaned back in her soft, padded chair and steepled her fingers. "I want you to return to that night in the glade when you saw the vision."

Arin shifted uneasily and her breathing sharpened.

"It is all right, Dara," soothed Lysanne. "I am here, as is Aiko, and nothing evil is at hand."

There came the whisper of steel being drawn as Aiko slid her swords from their scabbards. "I will protect you, my Lady."

Lysanne frowned at the yellow warrior, but Arin seemed to relax slightly, though her breathing was yet sharp.

"What do you see and hear, Dara?"

"I see the flames. I hear the horns."

"Horns?"

"The hunting horns. I know the stag now runs."

"Ah." Lysanne nodded. "I understand. But now, Dara, I would have you move forward in time, to when the hunt is done and the hunters returned, to when the vision comes. Tell me now what you see."

"Blood."

"Blood?"

"The slain stag is bleeding."

"And…?"

"And I look away, into the flames. -Oh, oh, oh." Arin began weeping and her breath came in harsh gasps.

Lysanne leaned forward and took Arin's hand and winced in pain at her grip. "Stay calm, my dear. Stay calm."

But Arin squeezed tighter and called out, "Oh, Adon, let it not be."

"Dara Arin?"

"Slaughter. Bloody slaughter."

"Dara Arin!"

"Dragons…"

"Dara, listen to me!"

"Oh, the children. Oh, oh, oh… I cannot, I cannot, I cannot…"

Now Lysanne called out sharply, "Lady Arin, listen to me! Step beyond these vile seeings, past the slaughter, past the famine, past the disease, past the pestilence. Find a place of calm."

Arin jerked her head one way, then another, and back and forth again. "There is, there is no, no place."

"Then listen to me, Arin. Listen to my voice. Hear me. Time stands still! All is frozen in a single moment! Nothing moves! Nothing at all. Nothing. It is arrested as if in a painting, as if in tapestry."

Gradually, Arin slowed her thrashing until she was still, though she continued breathing in rapid puffs. She relaxed her grip, but Lysanne did not take her own bruised hand away.

"Arin, I want you to step past these frozen images until you come to that place where you could endure no more of these sights, where your mind and soul had to flee from the seeing of them. Go to the place where the vision you told to the Council comes to an end, but go no further, for here it is we would see that which was heretofore forgotten by you."

Arin groaned. "Horror," she murmured. "Between here and there."

"Past them, Dara, past them. To the end of your clear telling."

Again Arin moaned, and it seemed as though she were laboring to cross rugged land. At last her breathing slowed.

"Have you come to the place where your remembered vision ends?"

"Yes."

"Good. Heed me, I want you to tell me what you see."

Arin did not speak.

"Tell me," demanded Lysanne.

Arin shook her head and muttered, "Nothing. I see nothing. All is darkness."

"Darkness?"

"Aye."

"And you see nothing whatsoever?"

"Nothing."

Lost in thought, Lysanne glanced 'round the room, unperceiving. Now she turned back to Arin. "Are there memories from this darkness?"

Arin's breathing increased. "Yes."

"Memories of what?"

"Something. A voice, runes, knowledge, I don't know."

Lysanne leaned forward and placed a hand to Arin's forehead. "Recodare!" she demanded.

Arin sat up and her eyes snapped open, but they were focused on a point beyond time and space. And in a voice hardly her own she intoned:

"The Cat Who Fell from Grace;

One-Eye in Dark Water;

Mad Monarch's Rutting Peacock;

The Ferret in the High King's Cage;

Cursed Keeper of Faith in the Maze:

Take these with thee,

No more,

No less,