And he stepped inside my guard.

Several thousand thoughts clamoured for attention and the trained part of me was yelling Threat! and trying to get me to draw a weapon, but sometimes you just have to ignore your brain and your training and listen to an older wisdom.

I can't remember who started kissing whom, but after a very short while it ceased to matter.

I knew great pleasure in those days. I had never thought there were so many like to me. Waking each morning was great joy, flying at dawn with brothers and sisters I had never known. It was food for my hungry heart and balm to my lonely mind, and for a brief time I did not think of Him. However, one day near noontide one of the two-legs walked through the gap on the side of sunrise. It was scrawny and it made a loud noise when it saw us and then it ran away, the smell of its fear strong on the air behind it. tts fear confused me. What were we, to be afraid of§

The others did not share my confusion. They seemed content enough that it had left, even pleased. I knew frustration again such as I had not felt for many years. I wanted to know what my kinsfolk were thinking, why they were pleased to see the two-legged one run away in fear.

I had no words but I wanted desperately to talk to them.

I remembered again the voice of the one I loved most in the world. It was deep and pleasing, and it shaped sound. He was not much of a singer, but he made pleasant noises and I missed his voice. However, there were two shaped sounds he had made the same way over and over, until I understood.

I suppose it is not true, then, to say I had no words at all in those days. I knew two sound shapes and I kept the memory of them close in my heart, trying to make the sounds myself when I was alone. The short one was the harder, for though I did not realise it, the sounds were made for a different mouth than mine. The other was the sound He used when he was talking to me, and I knew it was the sound that bound me to him.

Sah-rair-ah. He shaped it so, and I had practiced it again and again through the years, until I could nearly make the sound the same way. It made me think of him.

It wasn't quite right, but it was as close as I could come at the time.

I was disappointed that they didn't take the horses, but it didn't matter. Erthik and Caillin were found dead, none had seen or heard a struggle, therefore they must have been killed by those they knew.

Aral and Vilkas were outlawed by early evening. To have killed not just two people, not just two of the Magistri, but Erthik, their great proponent and mentor! It was monstrous.

Obviously.

It was Rikard, oddly enough, who made most trouble at the Assembly. He suggested that it was not clear exactly how they had died and perhaps we should consider a spirit summoning. He was shouted down by the others, who of course consider that procedure demonic. I did not bother to join in the debate, for unlike the others I knew that there were only a few hours after death in which such a summoning would work, and that the time was long past. I would have been happy to attempt to summon that which would not come.

Once the Assembly was over and Vilkas and Aral charged with murder, I retired sorrowfully to my chambers and begged to be left alone with my grief. I closed the door behind the departing Magister, locked it and cast a spell of silence on my room.

Only then could I laugh. Ah, what a splendid day it has been! It is no use sending Maikel after him now, for Vilkas's powers are intact. And because Vilkas is too strong and too used to dealing with the Rikti for one of them to concern him, I have sent a score. It did not take long or cost overmuch in the way of lansip, and it will be worth it to me to know that he is dead at last. The end of their price is the delivery of his head. I have a special box all prepared.

And to cap this delightful day, I have the final drop of good news I have needed. The Healers from Kaibar have sent word and a scrap of cloth by Rikti messenger—the cloth she left behind in the inn where she was staying.

Poor thing, she must have been bleeding badly, for it soaked into the cloth and stained it.

Blood from the one sought. This is what I have needed so desperately. Lanen is mine, and behold, there is my weapon ready to hand. I will set Maikel onto her this very night. Soon I will have in my hands that which I have sought for so long. I shall have to tell Marik his daughter will be here soon.

However, the deepest hours of night approach. I have renewed the players' paint on my face and hands and thrown the residue into the fire. No more. This night I will complete the work I have planned for so many years and set in motion nearly two moons ago. I will need to rest after this summoning, but on the third day Berys will be dead at last. Malior, Master of the Sixth Hell, will then rise triumphant with the fate of the world in his hands, and woe to those who would hinder me.

There was no warning. One moment we were sitting dis cussing what to do, the next Vilkas had disappeared under frantic crowd of demons, biting, tearing, fighting one an other to get at him.

Aral impressed me mightily. I was yelling blue murder and, I am ashamed to admit it, trying to get away. She, who had been covered by the faintest of light auras, instantly shone in the dim shadows under the trees like a blue star come to rest. She swiftly drew a pouch on a long string out from under her shirt and extracted what looked like a ruby the size of her hand, then she did the most extraordinary thing: she seemed to focus her power through the jewel, at least that's where the light went, a shaft of bright purple light straight through to Vilkas—

Who with a grunt emerged from under most of the demons. He had made a shield around himself of the power Aral sent him, but he could not keep them all off. A raking talon got through here, a bite there, and in a very short time Vilkas was looking much the worse for wear. He was doubled over, I guessed to protect a wounded side, and his face was bleeding badly.

I could not take my eyes from him, though I was not capable of assisting him. I am a gardener. I know nothing of demons and to fight them I had only my staff. Useless.

Aral, never stopping the flow of power she sent to Vilkas, drew her belt knife and held it out to me. "Will, help," she said. "Hard to talk. Take this."

I took it, stupidly staring at the blade.

"Cut me," she said, holding out her left hand, but with all her concentration on the jewel clutched in her right hand and the strength flowing through it to Vilkas. He struck out with the power she sent him, but it took a great deal of time and effort for him to deal with even one of the creatures, and there were so many, so many ...

"Will!"

"What? I don't understand," I said, "why should I—"

"Hold the blade for me then!" she cried. "I need blood!"

Without thinking I sliced the palm of my own hand. The blade was very sharp, I hardly felt it. "Here," I said, holding out my hand to her.

It was her turn to stand amazed, but only for a second. Vilkas called out, "Aral, quickly, I can't last much longer." The strain in his voice shocked me, he who never had to exert himself. From Vilkas that was a scream for help.

I was starting forward, but Aral grabbed my wrist and put my hand on the jewel, so that my blood flowed freely over the glowing surface.

What I had thought was a bright flow of the Healer's power gleamed now like the sun at noontide. I felt the most astounding sensation. Caught up in the fight, I felt just for that moment what it must be like to be a Healer. My strength was used as I could never have used it: every impulse to help Vilkas, every drop of friendship I bore him, and (I guessed) all the deep love I bore for Aral joined with her own power and whatever was in the jewel.