One renegade warlock could tie this world around his spell- ring finger.

" Down?" Krek asked tremulously. The flare of torches lighted the stairway and frightened the spider.

Lan placed a reassuring hand on the spider' s nearest leg and stroked it as he would a kitten.

" I won' t let any sparks set you on fire. Trust me. I trusted you in that aerial leap across the gap." He repressed a shudder thinking about it.

" But that was safe!" protested Krek. " This is dangerous."

Lan managed to guide the reluctant spider safely down the spiralling stairs without once endangering a tinder- dry bit of fur. The rest of their brief journey proved uneventful, and for that Lan muttered heartfelt thanks to several gods and a dozen demigods. The staircase ended in a balcony overlooking the great hall. Balanced precariously on four upright sword points stood a throne of blinding white. Seated on it with awesome majesty had to be Waldron of Ravensroost.

He didn' t merely observe the throng gathered at his feet; he exuded a regality that Lan felt. A haughty look and fine garments added to the effect, but the pair of ravens perched on the man' s shoulders pulled the scene from base affectation and pushed it into one that Lan dreaded. Waldron was no common soldier on a wild spree; he commanded. His presence dominated the room.

Lan circled the railing and jockeyed for a better position. The postures of the two men kneeling in front of the lambent throne indicated that they were senior officers. Straining to hear confirmed Lan' s suspicion.

" Well done, General Wixxel, very well done," congratulated the ruler. " If this world' s subjugation is almost complete, mass transfer of my subjects will begin immediately."

" A few outposts remain defiant, liege, but our forces apply growing pressure on them. They must fall soon. And when they do, we can move on to still another world."

" All in time, General, all in good time. I have just returned from our home world, and last season' s crop failure has extended into this season, too. If we hadn' t completed the conquest of this world according to the Great Plan, many more would starve this winter. Aid is being sent even now until they emigrate."

" My world also supplies them, liege," said the other man. " While total subjugation of my world is many months away, foodstuffs are plentiful."

Lan froze at the voice. He strained to see the man speaking more clearly. His worst suspicions were verified when Waldron answered.

" You have done well, Kyn- alLyk- Surepta. Of our new generals, you have accomplished the most."

" Under your leadership, all is possible," said Lyk Surepta.

Lan felt himself blanching. His hand trembled as he reached for his dagger. It was an impossible dagger toss, but he had to try. As he pulled back to send the blade cartwheeling, a furry limb restrained him.

" Is life so worthless that you throw it away like this?" asked Krek.

Lan relaxed slightly, the dagger no longer considered.

" He killed Zarella."

" Zarella? Oh, yes, your paramour on your home world. But I thought you wanted to retrieve your paramour on this world? Which is it to be, Lan Martak?"

Lan knew Krek was right. Zarella was dead and worlds away. But vengeance would be his! Kyn- alLyk- Surepta had sold out their home world to the murderous Waldron, and killing him would eliminate both a danger and a traitor. He turned his attention back to Waldron.

": and take the bitches captured on the road. I understand they are comely enough even for nobles such as yourselves."

The general smiled wickedly and bowed deeply. " Thank you, liege."

" My heartfelt gratitude," echoed Surepta.

" When you tire of them, allow your men to play with them. All my officers can use some: recreation."

All three laughed boisterously. Lan had to fight to hold his anger in check. He knew with certainty that those " bitches" were Velika and Inyx. He silently motioned to Krek as the officers backed from Waldron' s throne, then turned and strutted off.

" We mustn' t lose them, Krek! If we do, we' ll never find Velika." Lan grew more panicky as he tried to keep the general and Lyk Surepta in sight. The going was made even more difficult by the need to avoid the sporadically placed guards. Explaining Krek' s presence to a guard would be too difficult.

" I fail to understand what you see in that female. She appeared rather ordinary to me."

Lan remembered the way the blond woman' s grey- green eyes had implored him to protect her, the way her slender fingers crushed his arm so passionately, her fragrance, her beauty, the burning touch of her tears. For a moment, he felt as if his head spun wildly through a cosmos far removed. When he recovered from the brief vertigo, fire burned within. He must rescue Velika. He had promised to defend her against all danger, and he had failed. To regain his own besmirched honor, and the woman with whom he had fallen in love at first sight, Lan Martak felt morally obligated to fulfill his self- appointed duty. He must rescue her. And, of course, Inyx. She came under the same stringent code he avowed concerning Velika.

" Human stuff, Krek. I can' t explain it to you right now. Call it a matter of honor and let it go at that."

" You continue to astound me with your bizarre honors and dishonors. One day, when I am feeling less put upon, I shall sit down and contemplate all this. Truly, walking the Road is instructive. But the knowledge I gain seems so worthless to me. I ofttimes wonder if-"

" Krek, be quiet. Unless you can help me keep Surepta in sight."

" Oh, is that all you desire? It is quite simple. The pair you seek went down this corridor." Krek flexed his claws and inserted them into crevices in the interior walls. His eyes got a faroff look as he concentrated on " feeling" the location of Surepta and the general. After a few seconds, he bobbed his head rapidly and said, " It is as I thought."

" What?"

" I am right. They still go in that direction."

Lan bit back the retort forming on his lips. Arguing with the spider while in the center of the enemy camp was both futile and dangerous. Later, when they were all safe and far away from King Waldron and his hordes of grey- clad soldiers, then he could set this miserable furry spider straight on proper conduct behind enemy lines. Lan made his way carefully along the hall, not wishing to alert any guards in the crossing corridors. Once, he had to use his dagger, then find a room in which to hide the dead body. He hated wanton killing like this, but the slightest alert from a patrol meant his death, Krek' s- and Velika' s. He dared not take such a frivolous chance with her life. Better a dead body than a tied- up soldier who might escape his bonds and condemn all their souls to the Lower Places.

" Lan Martak!" hissed Krek urgently. " Halt a moment. Let me: consider."

Lan looked over his shoulder in puzzlement at the spider. The spider' s entire body shrunk as he watched. The huge arachnid crumpled to the floor like a scrap of waste paper. For a long, throbbing heartbeat, Lan said nothing. Krek might be ill. He knew so little of the spider' s needs; only his too- apparent fears surfaced. Had the spider encountered a vagrant current in the halls carrying some substance poisonous to his kind? Lan imagined a castle such as this protected against insects of all types. Perhaps a ward spell to this end had unbalanced Krek' s metabolism.

He shuddered at the prospect. The only such insect- killing spells he knew acted directly to speed catabolism. The delicate balance of life was upset in such a way that the offending bug died rapidly, its bodily systems failing to offset the increased rate of dying.