All eyes turned, toward Taliesin as he entered the room. “Ah, here is Taliesin now,” said Elphin, rising to meet him. “We were waiting for you.”

“I beg your pardon, Sires,” he said, addressing both Aval-lach and his father. “I was engaged elsewhere and have only just returned.”

“This is the one I have been telling you about,” Avallach murmured to the man on his right, “the singer.” He turned to Taliesin. “My brother, Belyn,” he said, “and my son, Maildun.” To both he said, “Prince Taliesin, son of King Elphin.”

“King Avallach has suggested an alliance between our people,” Elphin informed him. “We were just about to discuss it.”

“But what is there to discuss?” wondered Taliesin. “Certainly for us it can be no bad thing to have allies as powerful as Avallach… although I wonder what advantage Avallach will gain from an alliance with us?”

Avallach nodded appreciatively. “Your son disarms and challenges with the same words, Elphin. A subtle and useful skill for a king, to be sure. But there it is: what would we gain from an alliance?”

Belyn spoke up. “As Avallach has said, we are strangers in this land, like yourselves. But unlike you, we can never return home. Tairn, Sarras, all Atlantis is destroyed and lies at the bottom of the sea. We have survived to make a life here, but that is more difficult than you might imagine.”

“Surely you are well established here,” remarked Elphin; his gesture included the whole of the magnificent palace.

“It is no boast to tell you that what you see here is but a shadow, a semblance only, mean and contemptible compared to all we left behind. Nevertheless, _jt is no use mourning a world that is past and can never be again. We have no choice but to be reconciled to the world wherein we find ourselves.”

“In our eyes,” replied Elphin, “it appears that you admirably reconciled.”

“And yet,” said Avallach, sadness edging his tone, “all is not as it appears. If we are to have a future here, there must be changes.”

“Yes?”

“We lack certain things,” the Fisher King answered. “To be honest, we lack much that would assure our survival in this harsh land-much that you could provide for us.”

“Of course, we would be disposed to help however we could,” replied Elphin. “But we have nothing of our own, as you are well aware. And certainly nothing you do not already possess.”

“I was not thinking of material goods, King Elphin,” said Avallach.

“What else do we possess that would be useful to your survival?”

“You are a warrior race,” Belyn replied. “You are hardened to battle-war is distasteful to us; and yet it is clear that war is necessary in this world if we are to hold our place in it.”

“Are we to understand that you wish us to fight for you?” asked Elphin incredulously.

“In exchange for land, yes,” answered Avallach.

Hafgan made a sound in his throat like a groan. Elphin’s face hardened. “Keep your land! The Cymry are slaves to no one!”

Prince Maildun, a haughty sneer on his face, stood up. “It seems to me that you have little choice. You need land, we need fighting men. It is that simple. Nothing else about you interests us.”

Elphin flushed red with anger and he opened his mouth in quick reply. But before he could speak Taliesin stepped forward, interposing himself between his father and Avallach. “Allow us to withdraw, King Avallach, so that we may discuss your offer among ourselves.”

“We do not” began Elphin, blazing.

Taliesin spun toward him. “Let us leave at once,” he said softly.

With that Elphin turned and stalked out. Hafgan and Taliesin followed. No one said a word until they had passed through the ^all and reached the courtyard.

“Cuall would have killed him,” said Elphin darkly, as sta-blehands came running across the yard with their horses.

“He spoke in ignorance,” said Taliesin.

“Men have had their throats cut for less.”

“He was genuinely mistaken,” offered Hafgan.

“And if my dagger had been to hand, that son of his would be genuinely dead!”

“Is it your anger talking now,” Taliesin said. “I will not listen.”

The horses stood before them. Elphin grabbed the reins from the nearest hand and mounted. “Are you coming?”

“No,” Taliesin said. “I will remain here a little longer and speak to Avallach, if I can.”

“Be done with him. We are leaving this place.”

“Let me speak to him alone first. It may be that he is already sorry for his error.”

“Very well, talk to him,” snapped Elphin. “And while you are talking, I will make ready to move on. It is clear we are no longer welcome here.”

The horses clattered from the courtyard and Taliesin returned to the hall. He entered the corridor leading to the hall and glimpsed a movement in the shadows beside him. He stopped and called, “Come out, friend, and let us speak face to face.”

A moment later the long, elegant form of Annubi stepped forth. Taliesin had seen Avallach’s advisor before, but only briefly and at a distance. Now that he was near, however, Taliesin was struck by the strangeness of the man: the deathly pallor of his flesh, the slack mouth, the flat, gray eyes and rotten wisps of hair. The seer moved toward him, and the shadows seemed to deepen and move with him so that he was surrounded by darkness.

“A word, lord,” sighed Annubi. He was very close now, and Taliesin caught the scent of rank dissolution as the seer exhaled.

“You are Avallach’s advisor,” said Taliesin.

“I was… once. But no longer.” The seer watched him with his dead eyes. “I lost my sight and so lost my voice.”

Taliesin shifted under that grim, unsettling gaze. “How can I serve you?”

“Leave us,” hissed Annubi. “Your father is right-you are no longer welcome here. Leave and do not return.”

“Why? Why do you want us to leave?”

“Avallach speaks of alliances and futures… Bah! Dreams! Delusions! There is no future for us. We belong to a world that is gone and can never return.”

“Perhaps,” said Taliesin. “Times change, the world changes. It is the way of things. But,” he indicated the palace with a gesture, “you have not done so badly here.”

“What you see around you is an illusion. It is nothing less than nothing!” He gripped Taliesin’s shoulder with a long-fingered hand. “We are the echo of a voice that has died. And soon the echo will cease as well.”

Taliesin reached up to remove the seer’s hand and felt the bones beneath the sallow skin of his wrists. “But it has not ceased. Nor will it as long as there are those who hear.” He continued along the corridor.

Annubi did not follow but shrank back into the shadows. “We are dying,” he moaned, and the darkness of the corridor moaned with him. “Leave and let us die in peace!”

The seneschal ushered Taliesin into the inner chamber once more. Belyn was gone, but Maildun and Avallach were still there. Both men turned as Taliesin entered; Maildun frowned openly, but Avallach forced a smile. “Ah, Taliesin. Will you share wine with us?” He poured a cup and handed it to Taliesin.

“My father has told me of your prowess as a singer,” remarked Maildun. “It is a pity that I will never hear you.” The haughty smirk was back on his face.

“You of all men must understand,” Taliesin said. “My father would be less than a king if he ignored open insults to himself and his people.”

“So an alliance with us is an insult, is it?” demanded Maildun hotly. Avallach’s eyes narrowed.

“You see how easily meanings can be lost?” said Taliesin.

“I understood perfectly!” said Maildun, slamming down his cup.

“Did you?” Taliesin faced him. “Then I was wrong to return here.”

“Wait!” Avallach stepped forward. “I think I understand-or begin to. Stay, Taliesin; we will talk.”

“Why do you persist in talking to these people?” cried Maildun angrily. “Every hand is against us, Father. If we are to survive it will be by the sword. Understand that!”