Kalrakin, his massive beard twitching with frustration, had paused long enough for his fellow to demonstrate.

"Show us the dining hall of the foretower!" Luthar had commanded, nervously glancing at his companion, ¦ his lord. In a flash, the image of that chamber had appeared. It first displayed the empty table where they had grown used to taking their meals, in the vast hall that had once held countless priceless artifacts, talismans of ancient magic, squirreled away in numerous alcoves. With a little further experimentation Luthar had revealed a magical portal that allowed them to view any place within the Tower of High Sorcery.

Kalrakin had immediately seized upon the magical window with delight, commanding that it reveal to them the Hall of Mages-the huge, cavernous chamber in the North Tower where the twenty-one empty seats formed a circle in the center of the room. These stood silent and empty, and the sorcerer had mocked the power of the mages who had once ruled from their vantage. He had peered into the armories, the apprentice cells, the luxurious apartments where, presumably, these once mighty wizards had dwelled.

He had quickly learned that there were limits to the scope of this magical window. There were three rooms in the Tower that remained obscure to him, despite all of his efforts. Maddeningly, the window refused to grant him even a glimpse into these sacred precincts. His impulse, naturally, had been to smash the window, but Luthar had begged him to stay his vengeful fist.

Now, two weeks later, that restraint was finally paying off. Earlier, the sorcerers had observed, from a high window, the ragged-looking girl who emerged from the wilderness of the surrounding forest. They had watched with amazement as the magical gates of the compound parted for her, had watched her approach the door until their line of sight was blocked by the low bulk of the foretower.

It was Luthar who had suggested they continue to spy on her with the aid of the magical window, and so they had come here to enjoy the show. From here they had watched her find the food on the great banquet table, saw her sit down and eat like a starving beggar. And they had gasped in surprise when the white-bearded old mage had tottered into view.

"He's the man I killed-the first day we entered this place!" Kalrakin objected indignantly. "He wore black then, but I know him!"

"Well, certainly, so it seemed that he was dead," Luthar agreed diplomatically. "But if you recall, when you pierced him with that bolt of wild magic, his body disappeared. There was no corpse. At the time, we speculated that he might have been some sort of illusion. A magical phantom, as it were."

"You speculated. I saw a man die! I know that I killed him!"

"Perhaps he has a twin, then. For this appears to be the same person, now speaking to the lass." Luthar bit his lip, as if afraid that his tone had crossed the realm into insolence, but his master did not seem to notice.

"Bah-this portal is useless unless I can hear their words!" cursed Kalrakin, gesturing contemptuously at the window. "I am no lip-reader!" He turned and stalked away from the window, intending to confront the old man and the young girl in the dining room below, but Luthar, jogging behind frantically, urged patience.

"I beg you-don't attack her!" Luthar cried. "At least, not right away. She may be able to tell us something important, provide information. We may even want to leave her eyes intact, at least for the time being." Boldly, Luthar reached out to tug on Kalrakin's robe, bringing the gaunt sorcerer to an immediate, angry halt.

"How dare you?" the taller man spat, spinning furiously around.

"But think!" Luthar leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "She may be the secret, the key to opening the treasure rooms-those chambers that have remained barred to us! Perhaps the doors will yield to her for some reason."

Kalrakin scowled. His long fingers stroked the wiry hairs of his bushy beard, tugging absently at tangles and knots. Eyes narrowed, he squinted down at his companion. "Hmmm. You might be right," he acknowledged. "At least, we will see what the wench has to say."

"Thank you, my lord-it is a wise decision!"

"But as for the old white beard, he dies again-and this time I intend to see that he stays dead!"

Coryn took a bite of fish, followed that with another slice of delicious fruit, some sort of sweet melon, she guessed, and then washed the mouthful down with a swig of icy-cold milk. She felt as though she hadn't eaten in weeks. Besides, this was the most sumptuous meal she had ever enjoyed, and she was determined to take advantage of it, murderous sorcerers or not.

"Tell me more about this Test," she said, after another swallow, turning to query the white-bearded Master of the Tower. "Hey, where did you go?" she gasped, startled to see that she was, once again, alone in the large banquet hall. She was even more startled when a new voice, raspier and harsher than the Master's, came from behind her.

"He fled; he fears me, and with good reason."

She whirled to see a tall, forbiddingly whiskered person, standing in the doorway through which she had entered. He wore a tattered gray robe, the same nondescript color of his hair, whose eyes were the eyes of a madman, wild and staring and very frightening.

"What do you mean?" she asked, chilled by this newcomer's sudden appearance, and by the realization that he had seemed to be reading her thoughts.

"I killed him once, when I first arrived here. And I would have done it again if he had but waited for my entrance."

"Who are you?" she demanded as the man advanced into the dining room. His face was gaunt behind the massive effusion of his beard, and those crazed eyes were sunk into deep sockets, like wells in the face of his skull. From within those caves, his eyes sparked and glittered, fastening on Coryn's face with an almost physical intensity. She had never seen such a tall person, nor one so frightening. His hands twitched with nervous energy, and she saw that he was passing a white, smooth stone back and forth from hand to hand. She remembered the Master's words-the warning that there was an evil being in the Tower-and did not doubt that this was the evil.

He raised a long, slender finger, wagging it toward her. The pearly gem was tucked into the palm of this hand, and she saw that it glowed with a pale, sickly brightness.

"You are the traveler, come seeking sustenance and shelter." His tone was stern, rebuking. "You break in, stealing my food-"

I did not break in! she thought, then immediately did her best to control her thoughts. There was something edgy, unpredictable, about his man, and she did not want to agitate him any more than she had already. He loomed over her, glaring down, and she sensed a coiled violence, an evil barely restrained. "I did not mean any offense," she said calmly.

"And you dare to ask my name? Insolent child! It is I who should be asking for a name, a purpose," he continued. "Who are you?"

For the first time, Coryn noticed a second man, shorter than the first, short-bearded and rotund, looking at her almost apologetically as he slunk into the room behind the first. Remembering the words of the Master, describing one sorcerer who was far more dangerous than his companion, she had no trouble determining which was which. She faced her interrogator with her head held high-it was the only way she could look up into his unsettling eyes-and made her own tone as solemn as she could.

"My name is Coryn Brinefolk. I come from the Icereach, the village of Two Forks. And I did not come seeking shelter- I was invited in. The door opened to admit me."

"I know of thieves who have been hung for less blatant infractions," said the man dourly. He took another step closer, allowed his eyes to sweep over the array of foods on the table. Coryn felt a stab of protective jealousy-it was her food! -but he made no move to reach for a morsel. Instead he looked at her as if she were just another item on the buffet.