Terrors coiled like basilisks in the corners of his mind. His legs trembled. Adozen times during his journey across the town they had threatened to buckle orturn in the opposite direction, and the wine had been sweated out of him longago.

Enas Yorl was one of the darker legends of Sanctuary, although, for reasonswhich the episode in the Vulgar Unicorn had amply illustrated, he was rarelyseen. Rumour had it that the curse of some rival had condemned him to theexistence of a chameleon. But that was said to be the only limit on his power.

Had the sorcerer's offer been some perverted joke, or part of some magicalintrigue? I should take the gold to Cilia, he thought, it might be enough to buyus places in an outward-bound caravan ...

But the coin was only a retainer for a service he had not yet performed, andthere was no place he could flee that would be beyond the reach of the sorcerer.He could not return the money without facing Enas Yorl, and he could not runaway. Shaking so that he could hardly grasp the intricately wrought knocker, helet it fall upon the brazen surface of the door.

The interior of the building seemed larger than its outside, though thecolourless mists that swirled around him made it hard to be certain of anythingexcept the glowing red eyes of Enas Yorl. As the mists curdled and cleared, Lalosaw that the sorcerer was enthroned in a carven chair which the artist wouldhave itched to examine had anyone else been sitting there. He was considering aslim figure in an embroidered Ilsig cloak who stood twirling a mounted globe.

Seas and continents spun as the stranger turned, stared at Lalo, then back atEnas Yorl.

'Do you mean to tell me that sot is necessary to your spell?'

It was a woman's voice, but Lalo had already noted the fine bones structuringthe face beneath the scarred tanned skin and cropped hair, the wiry grace of thebody in its male attire. So might a kitten from the Prince's harem have lookedif it had been left to fight its way to adulthood in the alleys of the town.

Abruptly perceiving himself through the woman's eyes, Lalo straightened, acutelyaware of his stained tunic and frayed breeches, and the stubble on his chin.

'Why do you need a painting?' she asked scornfully. 'Isn't this enough topurchase the use of your own powers?' From a bag suspended around her neck shepoured out a river of moonlight which resolved itself into a string of pearlswhich she cast rattling upon the stone-flagged floor.

'I could ...' said the sorcerer wearily. He was smaller than he had been, anoddly shaped mound in the great chair. 'If you had been anyone else, I wouldhave given you a spell worth as much as that necklace, and laughed when yourship outran the land winds that carry the energies I use, and your beautybecame. ugliness again. The natural tendency of things is towards disorder, mydear. Destruction is easy, as you know. Restoration takes more energy.'

'And your power is not great enough?' Her voice was anxious now.

Lalo averted his eyes as the sorcerer's appearance altered again. He was feelingalternately hot with embarrassment and chill with fear. Risky as involvement inthe public affairs of wizards might be, to be privy to their personal affairscould only bring disaster. And whatever the relationship between the figurelesssorcerer and the disfigured girl might be, it was obviously both extremelypersonal, and an affair.

'There is a price for everything,' replied Enas Yorl once he had stabilized. 'Ican transform you without aids, but not while continuing to protect myself.Jarveena, would you ask that of me?' His voice was a whisper now.

The girl shook her head. Suddenly subdued, she let her cloak slip to the floorand seated herself. Lalo saw an easel beside him - had it been there before? Hetook an involuntary step towards it, seeing there a set of brushes ofperfectly matched camel's hair, pots of pigment finely ground, a smoothlystretched canvas -tools of a quality of which he had only been able to dream.

'I want you to paint her,' said Enas Yorl to Lalo. 'Not as you see her now, butas I see her always. I want you to paint Jarveena's soul.'

Lalo stared at him as though he had been struck to the heart but had not yetbegun to feel the pain. He shook his head a little.

'You read my heart as you see the lady's soul...' he said with a curiousdignity. 'The gods alone know what I would give to be able to do what you ask ofme!'

The sorcerer smiled. His form seemed to shift, to expand, and in the blazing ofhis eyes Lalo's awareness was consumed. / will provide the vision and you willprovide the skill... the words echoed in Lalo's mind, and then he knew no more.

The stillness of the hour just before dawn hushed the air when Lalo again becameconscious of his own identity. The girl Jarveena lay back in her chair,apparently asleep. His back and shoulder ached furiously. He stretched out hisarm and flexed his fingers to relieve their cramping, and only then did his eyesfocus on the canvas before him. -

Did I do that? His first reaction was one he had known before, when hand and eyehad cooperated unusually well and he had emerged from an intensive bout of workamazed at how close he had come to capturing the beauty he saw. But this - theimage of a face whose finely arched nose and perfect brows were framed by wavesof lustrous hair, of a slenderly curved body whose honey-coloured skin had thesheen of the pearls on the floor and whose delicately up-tilted breasts weretipped with buds of dusky rose - this was that Beauty, fully realized.

Lalo looked from the picture to the girl in the chair and wept, because he couldsee only blurred hints of that beauty in her now, and he knew that the visionhad passed through him like light through a windowpane, leaving him in thedarkness once more.

Jarveena stirred and yawned, then opened one eye. 'Is he done? I've got to gothe Esmeralda sails on the early tide.'

'Yes,' answered Enas Yorl, his eyes glowing more brightly than ever as he turnedthe easel for her to see. The painting holds my magic now. Take it with you andlook at it as you would look into a mirror, and after a time it will become amirror, and all will see your beauty as I see it now ...'

Shaking with fatigue and loss, Lalo sat down on the floor. He heard the rustleof the sorcerer's robes as he moved to embrace his lady, and after a littlewhile the sound of the painting being removed and her footsteps going to thedoor. Then Lalo and Enas Yorl were alone.

'Well ... it is done .. .'The sorcerer's voice was fleshless, like windwhispering through dry leaves. 'Will you take your payment now?'

Lalo nodded without looking at him, afraid to see the body to which that voicebelonged.

'What shall it be? Gold? Those baubles on the floor?' The pearls rattled as ifthey had been nudged by the sorcerer's current equivalent of a toe.

Yes, I will take the gold, and Gilla and I will go and never set eyes on thisplace again... The words were on his lips, but every dream he had ever known wasclamouring in his soul.

'Give me the power you forced on me last night!' Lalo's voice strengthened.'Give me the power to paint the soul!'

The laughter of Enas Yorl began as the whisper in the sand that precedes thesimoom, but it grew until Lalo was physically buffeted by the waves of pressurein the room. And then, after a little, there was silence again, and the sorcererasked, 'Are you quite sure?'

Lalo nodded once more.

'Well, that is a little thing, particularly when you are already... when thereis such a strong desire. I will throw in a few extras -' he said kindly, 'somesouls for you to paint, perhaps a commission or two ...'