He studied the old man, but said nothing.

Beside him Saram glanced from the overman to the King and back again, his finger poking idly at a small circle of mismatched wood in the table-top-a circle that was the sawn-off shaft of a crossbow bolt Saram had fired at Garth, on the Baron's orders, during Garth's previous stay in Skelleth. The overman had used the table as a makeshift shield, and the barbed quarrel had proven impossible to remove, so that the innkeeper had cut it off and sanded it down to blend with the oak.

After a moment, when it appeared that neither Garth nor the old man was willing to speak first, the ex-soldier cleared his throat and said, "I have brought Garth here, as you asked."

The old man nodded very slightly, but gave no other sign that he was aware of the presence of others at his table.

There was another pause, this one briefer than the first. It was broken when the overman finally announced, "I am here at your request. Speak, then, and tell me what you want of me. I have business to attend to."

The old man spoke, in a voice like the rustling of long-dead leaves. "Garth, I would have you serve me further."

The overman suppressed the shudder that ran through him at the sound of that voice; he had heard it before, but it was something that one could not truly remember-or want to remember. He replied, "I have no desire to serve you, nor any person other than myself."

The Forgotten King raised his head slightly and spoke again. "There are very few in these waning years of the Thirteenth Age who are fit to serve me. I do not care to wait for another."

"That may be; I do not deny that you may have uses for me. But why should I serve you? You offer me nothing, and I have little cause to trust you after the outcome of my last venture in your service."

"What would you have?"

"I would have nothing of you but to be left alone. When you promised me fame, my service yielded nothing but a dozen deaths and much trouble to no purpose."

"I did not slight you."

"Is my fame then so great? I see little evidence of it, old man."

"Did you then fulfill your service to me with a single trial?"

"No. I saw my folly after the single trial and went home."

"Yet you have returned, upon my advice."

Garth paused. That much was true; it had been the Forgotten King who pointed out the possibility of trade through Skelleth and its potential benefits.

"What of it? I did you a service, and you paid me with a simple suggestion I should have thought of for myself-but did not, I admit. We are even, then. I have no wish to serve you further. Hire Saram, here!"

Saram was startled out of his silence. "I? Oh, no; I am no adventurer."

The Forgotten King ignored Saram and said, "Is there then nothing that you seek, Garth? Are you content with your lot?"

There was a moment of silence; Garth contemplated the shadowed face while Saram looked back and forth, and neither could see where the old man's gaze fell. Finally the overman admitted slowly, "No, I am not content. I still seek what in truth I sought before; I want to know that I am not insignificant, not merely a meaningless mote in an uncaring cosmos. I sought eternal fame because it seemed to me that that was as close as I could come to making a real difference, and my nearest approach to immortality. I see little point in wealth or power or glory that will last only so long as I live. What, then, can you offer me? I no longer feel that the promise of undying fame will suffice to comfort me; can you offer more?"

"Under the proper circumstances I can give you whatever you want. If you fear death, I can promise you life to the end of time. If you seek to give your life a significance beyond the norm, then we are at one, for it is to work a fundamental change in the nature of our world that I seek your aid."

There was another moment of silence; then Garth asked, "What is this change you seek? You speak around your purpose. When I served you before you had me fetch you the basilisk and would not say why you wanted it; was it for this same mysterious goal?"

"My goal is unchanged." The harsh monotone of the old man's voice was likewise unchanged, but his head sank slightly, deepening the shadows that hid his face.

Garth sat back, considering. He had concluded, after much thought, that the Forgotten King's use for the basilisk-a use for which it had proven inadequate-included the old man's own death. He had no idea why the ancient would want to die; had he perhaps wearied of his long life? Nor had he any idea why a single old man should have difficulty in dying should he choose to do so, yet it was indisputable that he had survived whatever he had done with the basilisk. Perhaps, Garth thought, he had somehow misinterpreted previous events, for how could one lonely old man's suicide have cosmic repercussions?

That assumed, of course, that the old man spoke the truth. It was possible that he was indeed under some sort of curse of immortality which he hoped to break with Garth's aid-and dead men are under no obligation to fulfill their promises, so that he would offer whatever the overman wanted, knowing that he would never have to pay.

Then again, it was possible that the old man-who was very probably a wizard of some sort-really was attempting some world-shaking magic. That did not mean that his purposes were anything Garth sympathized with.

"What is this goal? Why will you not tell me? It could be some monstrous evil, some affront against nature and the gods."

"I seek only to fulfill that purpose the gods have given me, Garth; I swear this to be true."

"You still do not say what it is."

"Nor will I."

"And yet you ask me to serve you in this, without knowing?"

The old man said nothing, but nodded very slightly, once.

"I must consider this carefully. I will speak with you again when I have decided." Garth rose and strode from the table; Saram stirred, but reseated himself, and when the overman had left the tavern and the door had closed behind him, he turned back to the Forgotten King.

"It seems you offer a bargain only a fool would accept, full of vague terms and mysteries."

The Forgotten King said nothing, but Saram detected a faint shrug of his sagging shoulders.

CHAPTER THREE

As Garth rounded the last corner and came in sight of the marketplace, he saw Galt standing talking to someone. His fellow overman towered over the surrounding crowd, readily distinguishable, but at first Garth could not see who it was he was speaking with; then, as he began threading his way into the throng, he caught the glint of sunlight on a steel helmet and realized that Herrenmer had returned, presumably bearing the Baron's decision. He hastened his pace; the villagers, awed by his size and terrified by his face, parted before him, so that a brief moment later he was at Galt's side.

"Ah, Garth, it would seem that the local government wishes to speak with you and you alone. I offered myself as your representative, but was refused." Galt spoke smoothly and quickly, in a light tone, but Garth recognized a note of tension in his voice and saw that Herrenmer's hand was on his sword hilt. Behind their captain stood a full dozen guardsmen and, though no weapons were actually drawn, it was plain that a confrontation had been brewing.

"Oh? I apologize for my absence, Captain Herrenmer, but one of your townsmen wished to speak with me in private."

"The Baron also wishes to speak with you, overman; immediately." The man's voice shook slightly.

"I will oblige him momentarily. Larth, I leave you in charge. Galt, you come with me, in case we need to discuss business." The other overmen nodded; Garth took a step toward the mansion, but was halted by Herrenmer's hand raised in restraint.