Walegrin had removed the cloth from the table and placed a charcoal stylus in her hand without her sensing it. For a fleeting .moment she compared her copying to the images still in her mind. . Then the image was gone and she was fully back in the room, quietly watching Walegrin as he stared at the table.

'Is it what you wanted?' she asked softly.

Walegrin did not answer, but threw back his head in cynical laughter. 'Ah, my sister! Your mother's people are clever. Their curse reaches back to the dawn of time. Look at this!'

He pointed at the copied lines and obediently Illyra examined them closely.

'They are not what you wanted?'

Walegrin took the card of Quicksilver and pointed to the lines of script that delineated the waterfall. 'These are the runes that have been used since Ilsig attained her height, but this -' he traced a squiggle on the table, 'this is older than Ilsig. By Calisard, Vortheld, and a thousand gods of long dead soldiers, how foolish I've been! For years I've chased the secret of Enlibar steel and never realized that the formula would be as old as the ruins we found it in.'

Illyra reached across the table and held his clenched fists between her palms. 'Surely there are those who can read this? How different can one sort of writing be from another?' she asked with an illiterate's innocence.

'As different as the speech of the Raggah is from yours.'

Illyra nodded. It was not the time to tell him that when the Raggah came to trade they bargained with hand signals so none could hear their speech. 'You could go to a scriptorium along Governor's Walk. They sell letters like Blind Jakob sells fruit - it won't matter what the letter says as long as you pay the price,' she suggested.

'You don't understand, 'Lyra. If the formula becomes known again, ambition will seek it out. Rulers will arm their men with Enlibar steel and set out to conquer their neighbours. Wars will ruin the land and the men who live on it.' Walegrin had calmed himself and begun to trace the charcoal scratches onto a piece of translucent parchment.

'But, you wish to have it.' Illyra's tone became accusing.

'For ten years I've campaigned for Ranke. I've taken my men far north, beyond the plains. In those lands there're nomads with no cause to fear us. Swift and outnumbering us by thousands they cut through our ranks like a knife through soft cheese. We fell back and the Emperor had our commanders hung as cowards. We went forwards again, with new officers, and were thrown back again with the same results. I was commissioned myself and feared we'd be sent forwards a third time, but Ranke has discovered easier gold to conquer in the east and the army left its dead in the field to chase some other Imperial ambition.

'I remembered the stories of Enlibar. I hid there when I first escaped this town. With Enlibar steel my men's swords would reap nomad blood and I would not be deemed a coward.

'I found men in the capitol who listened to my plans. They knew the army and knew the battlefield. They're no friends of a hidebound Emperor who sees no more of war than a parade ground, but they became my friends. They gave me leave to search the ruins with my men and arranged for the garrison posts here when all omens said the answer lay in Sanctuary. If I can return to tnem with the formula the army won't be the whipping-boy of lazy Emperors. Someday men who understand steel and blood would rule ... but, I've failed them. The damned S'danzo curse has preceded me! The mage was gone when I got here and my dreams have receded further with each step I.decided to take.'

'Walegrin,' Illyra began, 'the S'danzo are not that powerful. Look at the cards. I cannot read your writing, but I can read them and there are no curses in your fate. You've found what you came for. Red clay yields steel through the Ore ruler, Quicksilver. True, Quicksilver is a deceiver, but only because its depths are concealed. Quicksilver will let you change this scribbling into something more to your liking.' She was S'danzo again, dispensing wisdom amid her candles, but without the bright colours and heavy kohl her words had a new urgent sincerity.

' You are touched by the same curse! You lie with your husband yet have no children.'

Illyra shrank back ashamed. 'I ... I use the S'danzo gifts; I must believe in their powers. But you seek the power of steel and war. You need not believe in S'danzo; you need not fear them. You ran away - you escaped! The only curse upon you is that of your own guilt.'

She averted her eyes from his face and collected her cards carefully lest her trembling fingers send the deck flying across the rough-hewn floors. She shook out her cloak, getting relief from her anger in the whip-like snap of the heavy material.

'I've answered your questions. I'll take my payment, if you please.' She extended her hand, still not looking at his face.

Walegrin unfastened the suede pouch from his belt and placed it on the table. 'I'll get the torch and we can leave for the bazaar.'

'No, I'll take the torch and go alone.'

'The streets are no place for a woman after dark.'

'I'll get by - I did before.'

'I'll have one of my men accompany you.'

'All right,' Illyra agreed, inwardly relieved by the compromise.

From the speed with which the soldier appeared Illyra guessed he had been right outside all along and party to everything that had passed. Regardless, the man took the torch and walked slightly ahead of her, attentive to duty but without any attempt at conversation until they reached the bazaar gates where Illyra had to step forwards to guide them both through the maze of stalls.

She took her leave of the man without farewell and slipped into the darkness of her home. Familiarity obviated need for light. She moved quickly and quietly, folding the clothes into a neat bundle and storing the precious pouch with her few other valuables before easing into the warm bed.

'You've returned safely. I was ready to pull on my trousers and come looking for you. Did he give you all that he promised?' Dubro whispered, settling his arms around her.

'Yes, and I answered all his questions. He has the formula now for Enlibar steel, whatever that is, and if his purposes are true he'll make much of it.' Her body released its tension in a series of small spasms and Dubro held her tighter.

'Enlibar steel,' he mused softly. 'The swords of legend were of Enlibar steel. The man who possesses such steel now would be a man to be reckoned with ... even if he were a blacksmith.'

Illyra pulled the linen over her ears and pretended not to hear.

'Sweetmeats! Sweetmeats! Always the best in the bazaar!

Always the best in Sanctuary!'

Mornings were normal again with Haakon wheeling his cart past the blacksmith's stall before the crowds disrupted the community. Illyra, one eye ringed with kohl and the other still pristine, raced out to purchase their breakfast treats.

'There's news in the town,' the vendor said as he dropped three of the pastries onto Illyra's plate. 'Twice news in fact. All of last night's watch from the garrison took its leave of the town during the night and the crippled scribe who lived in the Street of Armourers was carried off amid much screaming and commotion. Of course, there was no watch to answer the call. The Hell Hounds consider it beneath them to patrol the law-abiding parts of town.' Haakon's ire was explained, in part, by his own residence in the upper floors of a house on the Street of Armourers.

Illyra looked at Dubro, who nodded slowly in return.

'Might they be connected?' she asked.