“Is he alive or dead?” I asked, and then added, “Academic curiosity.”

“I'm not really certain,” she responded. “But a little of both, I think. Like the rest of us.”

“‘Guardian of the Fount,’ “ I reflected. “Interesting existence.”

“Beats being a coatrack,” she observed. “I daresay.”

“I suppose you feel I owe you some gratitude now, for – my restoratin,” she stated.

I shrugged.

“To tell you the truth, I've other things to think about,” I said.

“You wanted an end to the feud,” she said, “and I wanted this place back. I still have no kind thoughts toward Amber, but I am willing to say we're even.”

“I'll settle for that,” I told her. “And there is a small loyalty I may share with you.”

She studied me through narrowed eyes for a moment, then smiled.

“Don't worry about Luke,” she said.

“But I must. That son of a bitch Daft-”

She continued to smile.

“Do you know something I don't?” I asked.

“Many things,” she replied.

“Anything you'd care to share?”

“Knowledge is a marketable commodity,” she observed, as the ground shook slightly and the fiery tower swayed. “I'm offering to help your son and you're offering to sell me the information on how to go about it?” I inquired.

She laughed.

“If I thought Rinaldo needed help,” she said, “I'd be at his side this moment. I suppose it makes it easier to hate me if you feel I lack even maternal virtues.”

“Hey, I thought we were calling things even,” I said.

“That doesn't preclude hating each other,” she replied.

“Come on, lady! Outside of the fact that you tried to kill me year after year, I've got nothing against you. You happen to be the mother of someone I like and respect. If he's in trouble, I want to help him, and I'd as soon be on good terms with you.”

Mandor cleared his throat as the flames dropped ten feet, shuddered, dropped again.

“I've some fine culinary spells,” he remarked, “should recent exertions have roused some appetites.”

Jasra smiled almost coquettishly, and I'd swear she batted her eyelashes at him. While he makes a striking appearance with that shock of white hair, I don't know that you'd exactly call Mandor handsome. I've never understood why women are as attracted to him as they usually seem to be. I've even checked him out for spells on that particular count, but he doesn't wear one. It must be some different order of magic entirely.

“A fine idea,” she responded. “I'll provide the setting if you'll take care of the rest.”

Mandor bowed; the flames collapsed the rest of the way to the ground and were damped therein. Jasra shouted an order to Sharu, the Invisible Guardian, telling him to keep them that way Then she turned and led us toward the downward stair.

“Underground passage,” she explained, “to more civilized shores.”

“It occurs to me,” I remarked, “that anyone we encounter will probably be loyal to Julia.”

Jasra laughed.

“As they were to me before her and to Sharu before me,” she replied. “They are professionals. They come with the place. They are paid to defend the winners, not to avenge the losers. I will put in as appearannce and make a proclamation after dinner, and I will enjoy their unanimous and heartfelt loyalty until the next usurpation. Mind that third step. There's a loose flagstone.”

So she led us on, through a section of fake wall and into a dark tunnel, heading in what I believed to be a northwesterly direction toward the area of the Citadel which I had investigated somewhat on my previous journey this way. That was the day I had rescued her from Mask/Julia and taken her back to Amber to be a coatrack in our citadel for a while. The tunnel we entered was totally dark, but she conjured a darting dot, bright in its will-o'-the-wispiness, which preceded us through the gloom and the damp. The air was stale and the walls were cobwebby. The floor was of bare earth, save for an irregular patch of flagstones down its middle; there were occasional fetid puddles at either hand; and small dark creatures flashed past us-both on the ground and in the air-every now and then.

Actually, I did not need the light. Probably none of us did. I held to the Sign of the Logrus, which provided a magical way of seeing, granting a silvery, directionless illumination. I maintained it because it would also give me a warning against magical effects-which might include booby trap spells about the premises or, for that matter, a bit of treachery on Jasra's part. One effect of this seeing was to note that the Sign also hovered before Mandor, who, to my knowledge, has never been much into trust either. Something cloudy and vaguely Pattern-like also occupied a similar position vis-b-vis Jasra, completing the circle of wariness. And the light danced on before us.

We emerged from behind a stack of barrels into what appeared to be a very well-stocked wine cellar. Mandor paused after six paces and carefully removed a dusty bottle from the rack to our left. He drew a corner of his cloak across its label.

“Oh, my!” he observed.

“What is it?” Jasra inquired.

“If this is still good, I can build an unforgettable meal around it.”

“Really? Better bring several to be sure then,” she said. “These go back before my time-perhaps before Sharu's time even.”

“Merlin, you bring these two,” he said, passing me a pair. “Carefully,now.”

He studied the rest of the rack before selecting two more, which he carried himself.

“I can see why this place is often under siege,” he remarked to Jasra. “I'd have been inclined to have a go at it myself had I known about this part.”

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“There are easier ways to get what you want,” she said, smiling.

“I'll remember that,” he replied. “I hope you'll hold me to it.”

I cleared my throat.

She gave me a small frown, then turned away. We followed her out a low doorway and up a creaking flight of wooden stairs. We emerged in a large pantry and passed through it into an immense, deserted kitchen.

“Never a servant around when you need one,” she remarked, casting her gaze about the room.

“We won't be needing one,” Mandor said. “Find me a congenial dining area and I'll manage.”

“Very well,” she replied. “This way then.”

She led us through the kitchen; then we passed through a series of rooms till we came to a stairway, which we mounted.

“Ice fields?” she asked. “Lava fields? Mountains? Or a storm-tossed sea?”

“If you are referring to a choice of views,” Mandor responded, “give me the mountains.”

He glanced at me, and I nodded.

She conducted us to a long, narrow room, where we unfastened a series of shutters to behold a dappled range of round-topped peaks, The room was cool and a bit dusty with shelves running the length of the near wall. These held books, writing implements, crystals, magnifying glasses, small pots of paint, a few simple magical instruments, a microscope, and a telescope. There was a trestle table at the room's middle, a bench on either side of it.

“How long will it take to prepare this?” Jasra asked.

“A minute or two,” Mandor said.

“In that case,” she said, “I would like to repair myself somewhat first. Perhaps you would also.”

“Good idea,” I said.

“Indeed,” Mandor acknowledged.

She led us to what must have been guest quarters, not too far away, and left us with soap, towels, and water. We agreed to meet back in the narrow room in half as hour.

“Think she's planning something nasty?” I asked as I drew off my shirt.

“No,” Mandor replied. “I like to flatter myself in thinking that she would not want to miss this meal. Nor, do I feel, would she want us to miss seeing her at her best, having so far seen her at something less than that. And a possibility of gossip, confidences...” He shook his head. “You may never have been able to trust her before and may never again. But this meal will be a Time-out if I'm any judge.”