Kit's antagonist was coming hard at her again, and she backed up, dodging and feinting. Suddenly the Iron Guard took a step back and surprised her with a graceful, almost hypnotic gesture that did not involve his sword arm; he swept some object off a table, some decorative ceramic, and hurled it at her. It smacked Kit neatly in the chin. She buckled and then straightened, bleeding and wobbly.

"Kit!" Colo called out, breathing hard.

Kitiara managed to look over to her and give her a reassuring nod. But as she did, Colo was distracted for too long a moment. The third Iron Guard, who had been circling for a vantage behind her, found his opening and drove his sword into Colo's back. Her face froze, and she slumped to the floor.

At the same moment, the Iron Guard with a knife stuck in his eye-slots collapsed into a twisted clump.

Kit gave a cry. Turning her back on the guard who had been stalking her, she vaulted across the room to the other side, straight toward the one who had stabbed Colo. The Iron Guard watched her charge with-surprise? Fear? Caught without his sword, which was still embedded in poor Colo's back, the armored man struggled to pull his knife out of its sheath.

Kitiara knocked him over backward with her momentum, straddling his chest. The armored man flailed at her. But Kit swung the hilt end of Beck's sword at his face, hard and fast, again and again, pounding the mask into a dented, twisted shape.

The Iron Guard clawed at his mask, choking and strangling.

Kit got up and, as gently and swiftly as she could, pulled the sword from Colo's bloody back and rolled her friend over. Colo's mouth and eyes were open. Her face was pallid.

"Colo…" Kit tried to say something. She had no time to think of appropriate words, though, because she heard clanking. She looked up just in time to roll away from the last Iron Guard, who had heaved himself at her.

His sword fell and hers skittered away, knocked from her grasp by the narrow escape. He had a knife still; Kitiara had no weapon. He lunged at her, but she grabbed his mailed wrist.

They wrestled and writhed across the floor, spitting and cursing into each other's faces. She was only vaguely aware of Lady Mantilla, crouched and hovering several feet behind her, hissing words. The Iron Guard weighed twice what Kit did. It was all she could do to keep him from crushing her.

They bowled over furniture as they rolled to the middle of the room. The struggle took its toll on both of them, but Kitiara was losing strength more rapidly. Finally the guard shook off Kit's hold and managed to get on top of her, raising his knife high. Desperately Kit twisted her head to one side. She felt the Iron Guard's dagger graze her skull and break its point on the floor.

Her left hand groped around on the floor, coming up with nothing. Her right hand reached out and touched the point of Colo's sword.

The Iron Guard was frantically trying to pull out his other knife when Kit swung the tracker's sword and smacked him in the head with its hilt. The blow knocked the guard off balance and caused him to drop his second knife.

Kit jumped up and stumbled backward. She managed to steady herself as the Iron Guard rose to his feet. Now she was the one with a sword, and he was weaponless.

Her opponent glided backward toward a wall. Kit wrapped both hands around the sword's hilt, lowered her head slightly, and charged, thrusting upward at his helmet. Her aim was good. The sword ran through his mouth slit. The guard was effectively pinned against the wall, groaning and twitching.

Kit felt spent; her clothes were torn, nicks and bruises covered her body. It took all the effort she could muster to pull out her sword. The Iron Guard slid to the ground.

Kitiara turned toward Luz Mantilla. She had returned to her chair in the center of the room, encircled by the cone of pale light.

Kit picked up her own sword and approached her warily, scanning the room for other enemies or magical devices. The Lady observed her with a smirk.

"Pity about your friend," oozed Lady Mantilla. "Colo? Was that her name?"

The Lady made a subtle hand gesture that, if she had not known about such things from Raistlin, Kit might not even have noticed.

Kitiara had come within a few feet of the Lady, but now found herself unable to get any closer. Some sort of force field, something like an invisible wall, stopped her. Stooping, Kit felt around with her hands to try and determine where the barrier started and ended.

"I lost a friend once," said Lady Mantilla in her baritone. "The only dear friend I ever had. The only person I ever loved, who ever loved me. Now you know how it feels, Kitiara Uth Matar."

Kit realized, with a shiver of apprehension, that the force field did not protect Lady Mantilla. It was surrounding her. Kit could move only a few feet forward or backward or sideways. The wall rose so high over her that she could not feel its top. She was caught like a spider in a jar.

Looking at Luz Mantilla, Kitiara noted that the Lady's eerie gaze rested on the sword in Kit's hands. Where the sword moved, Lady Mantilla's eyes followed.

"My beautiful sword," said Lady Mantilla in a low moan, stroking her white, tangled hair abstractly. "My precious gift of love. I should like to have it back. I should like to have it as a… memento."

"You will get it back, witch," murmured Kitiara, "right through your heart."

"What did I ever do to you, Kitiara Uth Matar?" the Lady crooned mournfully, her eyes following the sword as Kit shifted it from one hand to the other. "What did I ever do to you that you would help kill my beloved?"

Kit said nothing.

"I don't understand you," said Lady Mantilla. "Now that I know your name, I am even more mystified by your behavior. By your allegiances."

Kit stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"Your name-Matar. Your father was Gregor Uth Matar?

"What do you know about my father?" asked Kit, her confident tone wavering.

"I told you I gathered a long file on Ursa," said Lady Mantilla, almost petulantly. "I told you I found out all about him-where he had been, what he had done, how he operated."

"What are you saying?"

"What am I saying?" repeated Lady Mantilla. "I mean to say, how can you be in league with the turncoat who betrayed your own father?"

"What!"

Lady Mantilla's eyes revealed complete astonishment. "You don't know," she murmured. "You really don't know…"

"What trick is this?" Kit took an angry step toward the lady. Futile. The invisible barrier stopped her.

Lady Mantilla tilted her head back and gave a long, high-pitched shriek of laughter. "It was in Whitsett, far to the north, four years ago. Ursa was part of a force of mercenaries that fought a climactic battle under the leadership of your father. Gregor's men were successful, and when the contest was over it was Gregor who set the terms of surrender. Surrounded by his loyal entourage, he waited in an open field as the other army rode in to relinquish its arms.

"What your father didn't know was that among his own men there was a faction that thought he did not fairly divide the spoils of his victories, who thought that he was growing rich at their expense. Among them was a man, a first lieutenant who until then had ridden faithfully at Gregor's side. He organized the faction in a secret conclave. They pledged to betray Gregor. This group, under the leadership of Ursa Il Kinth, helped to fake the victory and conspired to arrest Gregor at the peace council."

"Liar!" Kit shouted, but the accusation was half-hearted. The tale Luz told was very similar to the one that Captain La Cava had told Kit aboard the Silver Gar. Perhaps the Lady had heard the same story and is embellishing it now to set me against Ursa, Kitiara wondered hopefully.