‹I suspect the cause, but with limited confidence. An infinite number of event vectors exist in the physical realm. Series of events having direction, force and duration. Some are driven by humans, others are influenced by humans, and some are beyond human influence. Some can be extended into the future with significant probabilities, others cannot. And while I have the gift of perceiving and predicting vectors to a degree well beyond the human, it is a gift with definite limitations. I am, after all, incarnate.

‹Thus I cannot define the threat.› With his mind he peered intently at Macurdy. ‹However, I believe it was no accident that I visited the Scrub Lands when I did. For it was there I sensed the problem vector. It is focused on the coast. As if from the Ocean Sea, or across it.›

The statement struck Macurdy like a punch in the gut. Across the Ocean Sea! He remembered the dream he'd had, just before leaving Wolf Springs-a dream of Crown Prince Kurqosz of the Voitusotar, and "his army of monsters."

Vulkan allowed excitement to color his next thought-words. ‹That is it!› he said. ‹It verifies my suspicion. The Voitusotar are the root and energy of the vector!›

"What are you talking about?"

‹The dream you just remembered! It brought the vector into focus for me, and verified the cause, the sorcerers you told me of, who visited Farside. The Voitusotar.› He examined Macurdy thoughtfully. ‹Your warrior muse is an excellent dream maker.›

Warrior muse? Dream maker? Macurdy examined the words warily, then set them aside. "Vulkan," he said, "I've got another question."

‹Ask it.›

"You read my mind. You already know the question."

‹Do I now?›

"Don't you?"

‹Ask.›

Macurdy shrugged. "It seems you know my role in this. If it doesn't turn out to be a false alarm. But what's your role?"

Vulkan answered reflectively. ‹For a long time my broad role has been to observe Yuulith and its sentient beings-dwarves, humans, the great ravens, the tomttu, and the ylver. And to surround myself with a mystique. Eavesdropping while invisible is a specialty of mine. All in preparation for my new role-to support you in your efforts to save Yuulith from the Voitusotar.›

"Why can't we switch roles? You save Yuulith, and I back you up. I could be your spokesman."

‹Ah! But that is not what the Tao intends. Humankind is responsible for humankind, and the ylver for the ylver. And you are of both. It-the Tao, that is-may provide them with such as I, but our powers are limited. It is rare that the Tao intervenes directly, and then only to provide an autonomous agent. Or in this case two: you and me. The Tao does not part the waters of the sea, nor destroy the enemies of some chosen people.›

"Huh!" Macurdy had never been firmly sure there was a God, supposed he never would be. He'd suspected, even hoped there was, had even prayed occasionally, though he wasn't sure to whom. "What's this Tao like?"

‹My comprehension of it is both imperfect and incomplete. It is easier for me to say what it is not.›

Macurdy frowned. "But if he talks to you…"

‹Not he. It. Sex and gender do not apply.› Vulkan paused, his calm mind regarding Macurdy. ‹You misapprehend the Tao. It is not a sentient bull with magical powers, like Bhroig the Fertile, of the western tribes. Or the White Whale of the Ocean coast, who remarkably enough is thought to swim in the sky. Nor Brog'r of the Rude Lands, of whom it is claimed he visits from time to time in the form of a white stallion bringing gifts: corn in the ancient past, and more recently potatoes. Not even the All Soul of the ylver, who lives above the sky, dispassionately noting their acts, creditable and otherwise.› He paused. ‹Nor the concepts you're familiar with on Farside.›

Farside. Macurdy wondered if Vulkan had access to it, or if he knew of it only from him, and perhaps others who'd crossed over. He shook the matter off. "How far can you go in backing me up?" he asked.

‹Your decisions are yours to make. I cannot make them for you. I can inform. I can educate. I can advise, suggest, and nudge. I can physically carry you on my back, but you must decide where to. For the decisions must be truly yours. I will not 'argue' you into something.›

Vulkan said nothing more then. After a minute, Macurdy asked, "That's it?"

‹That's it.›

Macurdy frowned. He'd looked forward to Vulkan's muscular bulk and ugly tusks backing him up. Physically. Martially. "Suppose the Voitusotar use sorcery?"

‹They will. And I will not reply in kind. I am not, in fact, a sorcerer. I was incarnated with certain assets, most conspicuously a formidable body. I can draw on the Web of the World, as you have learned to do. When I wish, I can become unseeable; in fact imperceptible by any human senses. Within limits, I have power over gates. I can read auras in even greater detail than you, and I literally smell emotions. I can see into minds at the level of conscious thought, and below in the margin between the conscious and subconscious. Few sorceries can touch me. And obviously I can communicate with humans when I choose to. Although I have what might be termed emotions, they do not cloud my mind. And because I am immune to fear, I am immune to being mentally overwhelmed.

‹But I do not kill ensouled beings, nor do I coerce, and my magicks are limited to the benign. I can do favors, as you learned at our first meeting, but they do not involve assaulting anyone.› He paused. ‹I believe I have answered your questions.›

After a bit, walking and trotting toward Teklapori, they conversed further. With Vulkan's prompting, Macurdy described more of his observations of the Voitusotar, including his training at Schloss Tannenberg, his experiences in Hithmearc, and his destruction of the Bavarian Gate. And the nightmares he'd had, during the war there, of monsters on the beach.

"But that was there," Macurdy said, "and a different war. I wasn't even sure that Hithmearc is in the same world as Yuulith."

‹It is,› Vulkan said. ‹It is part of ylvin history, and another like myself has known them directly if not extensively. Apparently they have discovered a means of crossing the Ocean Sea.›

By that time they could see the town wall of Teklapori, a near-blackness in the gray of dusk.

‹We shall soon see,› Vulkan said, ‹what the king of Tekalos thinks of this.›

Macurdy nodded grimly. He was not enthused at the prospect of confronting voitik sorceries.

13 Evenings in a Palace

They traveled steadily the rest of the day, skipping Gormin Town. It was twilight when they reached Teklapori, whose gates had been closed at sunset. They bypassed it, too. Macurdy's business was a mile to the south, at the palace.

The last half mile was paved with flagstones, on which Piglet's shod hooves clopped loudly. Vulkan had cloaked himself, and could not be seen, heard, nor smelled. Macurdy, however, needed to be seen and heard to be let in. He recalled the difficulty he'd had the last time he'd arrived unexpected in the night.

Though the guards on the tower must have heard Piglet's shod hooves, no one called a challenge. And now Macurdy discovered something added since his last visit: a bronze bell resembling a large cowbell hung from a bracket beside the spy gate. Leaning in the saddle, he shook the bell noisily, at the same time bellowing: "Halloo! Let me in!"

Someone called back from the forty-foot tower: "Who is it?"

"Macurdy, come to see the king!"

Macurdy had expected disbelief, but after a long moment the voice answered, "Just a minute." It took more like four or five, but finally someone shone a target lantern through the "eye" in the narrow "spy's gate," its yellow beam finding Macurdy's face. In another half minute, the grinding of windlass and chain signaled the raising of the portcullis within the wall. Then the narrow gate opened and a guard stepped out, the lantern in his hand for a closer look. Another guard stood in the opening, crossbow wound and raised.