Slowly, carefully, she allowed one eye to open to a slit. She was in a room of some kind, small. It hinted at better appointments in the gold filigree that adorned some of the walls, but there was nothing in it that she could see other than the bed on which she lay.

  Growing braver, she opened both eyes and lifted her head to look around. Stone floor, walls that looked like some kind of plaster over stone. In the far corner a small fountain.

  At the sight of it she realized she was parched. But how to reach it?

  She stirred on the bed, making a small amount of noise, and waited. No one came. Nothing else stirred. The stones between her breasts grew a little warmer, seeming to clear her mind and draw her further from the sickening darkness that hovered at the edge of her mind.

  Drawing on yet more courage, she tried to sit up and realized her feet had been unbound. That must mean she had reached her final destination.

  Lantav Glassidor. The name of the mysterious mage floated into her mind. He must have taken her. He must have some use for her. A small sob of laughter nearly escaped her when she thought of how disappointed the man would be. Ilduin? Yes, she might be. Everyone seemed to think so. But of what possible use could she be to anyone when she knew nothing of her powers or how to use them? Glassidor was bound for disappointment.

  And she was bound for what?

  At least her hands were tied in front. She was able to rise and stagger toward the fountain in the corner, where she bent her head and drank thirstily. How long since she had been taken? How many days had she slept away? She was thirsty enough to feel as if there wasn't enough water in the world to slake her need.

  But eventually she could swallow no more.

  Turning, she surveyed the room in which she was held. Bare except for the bed and one heavy wooden chair she hadn't noticed before. The window was a deep, narrow slit, too small to crawl through, that offered only a view of blue sky. The door was heavy wood, banded with iron, and the lock appeared heavy and strong.

  Returning to the bed, she sat on its edge and studied the ropes around her wrists. Her cloak was gone, but she still wore her own garments, which meant that the stones she carried most likely remained undiscovered.

  However, since she had no notion what purpose they were meant to serve, they did her no good, either.

  Except in some way, with each passing moment, she felt more refreshed. That might be the water. Or it might be the stones, which had awakened her in the first place with their heat.

  The knot that bound the rope around her wrists was one she did not recognize. Studying it, she could see no way to undo it without risking making it tighter. A very canny, skillful knot. But if someone could tie it, then it must be possible to untie it.

  It wasn't as if she had anything else to do right now.

  All of a sudden she heard a clank and a rasp at the door. She looked around wildly, wondering if she should pretend to be asleep still, then realized the chances were good that she had been observed somehow.

  The door swung open, revealing a tall, jolly looking man in a black robe with some odd kind of flat hat on his head. Behind him stood two armed men, swathed all in black, even their faces.

  "My dear," said the jolly man, "how good to see you awake. You must be hungry."

  He snapped his fingers and stepped to one side. The guards, too, parted, and two men in black tunics entered, carrying a table laden with food, which they placed directly in front of her, effectively making it impossible for her to rise from the bed without knocking the table over.

  "I take care of my guests," said the jolly man. He waved away the servants and set the guards at the door. Then he closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

  "But," he continued as he sat in the heavy chair facing her, "'twould be much easier for you to dine if your hands weren't bound."

  He snapped his fingers, and the rope fell from her wrists. "Better?" he asked.

  Tess stubbornly resisted the urge to rub her wrists, or to look at the rope, which had fallen to the floor. She would give her captor no enjoyment of any kind. "Who are you?"

  "Ahh, I am your host for the indefinite future. Lantav Glassidor. You may have heard of me?"

  She nodded slowly.

  "Now eat, my dear. Get your strength back. Then we shall discuss how we can save the world."

  Her head jerked a little in astonishment. "Save the world?"

  "Aye. Surely you don't think I have any other purpose?"

  Lorense wasn't a much bigger city than Derda, but the differences were nonetheless remarkable. Here everyone and everything thrived. A room at the inn meant sumptuous accommodations for the entire party, followed immediately by a large, delicious meal in their private parlor. From the window they could see that the streets remained busy until well after dark.

  As for the location of Lantav Glassidor...well, everyone was eager to tell them about the wonderful mage who had saved them from the blight that had struck the north and west. But strangely, no one seemed to know exactly where he could be found.

  "So," said Ratha, "am I to feel confused or seriously misled?"

  "Misled," said Archer grimly. "A wise eagle does not soil its own nest."

  "Aye," agreed Giri. "A wise general also surrounds himself with allies. There are none in this city who would help us to find Glassidor."

  "Then we will find him by other means," Archer said firmly.

  Tom spoke. "We couldn't be wrong about him?"

  Sara, who had been lying on the settle, drowsing on and off, spoke. "No. Can't you feel it? However blessed this place may appear, it feels cursed."

  Archer nodded. "Aye, Sara, that it does. This place is no less wrong than every other place we have passed through."

  Sitting on a bench before the fire, he let his chin settle on his chest. "Give me time to think on this. And keep your guard high. We are strangers here, and even if we have not been identified by the hive, being strangers makes us a threat. They will seek us out."

  Sara pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Tom, I need something to drink, if you will be so kind."

  He leapt up at once to bring her a mug and the water skin. He filled her mug repeatedly until she set it aside.

  Finally, feeling shame and even a touch of fear, he murmured, "Thank you for saving me."

  She blinked. "When?"

  "At the Eshkar."

  Slowly she shook her head. "I do not remember that very clearly. It was as if something from the stones filled me and guided me."

  "You burned like a blue flame."

  Her eyes widened; then a soft smile came to her face. "If I was an instrument for helping you, then I am grateful, Tom." She cupped his cheek in her hand. "But I was merely an instrument."

  He turned his head and dared to kiss her palm. He might never be good enough for her, but he still adored her with his entire being.

  "Now eat, please," said Lantav Glassidor to Tess. "You need your strength, and I promise it is nothing but healthy food. No surprises."

  She wasn't sure she believed him, but as she looked at the food, she could sense nothing wrong with it. Wrongness was all around, she realized suddenly. This room, this man, all of it was wrong somehow. But not the food.

  Giving in to her body's needs and the suspicion that she would need every bit of her physical strength, she at last began to eat. Roast chicken, fresh greens, bread still piping hot from the oven. The wine she ignored, drinking more water instead.

  Each mouthful seemed to increase her sense of self, her mental acuity, and... her awareness that everything around her was wrong, as if time and space had been warped.

  While she ate, she said nothing. Let the man talk uninterrupted, she thought. Let him think I believe his every word. In fact, he would have been easy to believe, if he had not abducted her.

  "I am certain you noticed the destruction of the lands to the north and west," he said to her. "You traveled here from Whitewater, I believe."

  She gave a nod, pretending to be unable to speak because her mouth was full.

  "Terrible, terrible blight," he said, as if it pained him beyond description. "So many lives lost. So many farms destroyed. I know that some say it was my doing, but my dear Lady Tess, had I the power to do that, I would also have the power to have made all those farms prosper, to have held off the winter until its usual time."

  She looked at him then, meeting his gaze directly. She noted that his eyes were so dark that it was impossible to tell where the pupil began. It was not that she had never seen eyes like his before, at least in color. It was the feeling she got that someone other than Lantav Glassidor was also looking out of them.

  A chill suffused her, and she quickly returned her attention to her food.

  "How many of the old tales do you know?" he asked. It seemed like a change of subject, but Tess was certain it was not.

  "Few," she answered briefly, then popped a piece of bread into her mouth to excuse herself from saying more.

  "'Tis a pity how they have been forgotten." He sighed. "There are lessons to be learned from the distant past."

  Tess nodded and continued to chew the bread as if her life depended on it.

  "You have heard of the two brothers who warred and brought an end to the First Age?"

  Again she nodded.

  "Annuvil and Ardred, they were called. Annuvil disappeared. He is said to have been killed in the war. But Ardred survived, an immortal. The gods carried him away to their plain of existence."

  That was too much for Tess. "How do you know that?"

  Glassidor frowned. "Because he has returned, my lady. It is he who is called Lord of Chaos. With powers beyond imagining, he blights the land and moves the seasons out of their course. None can withstand him."

  "Then how can you fight him?"

  "With Ilduin, my lady. With Ilduin. Only they can confine and restrain him. That is why I must beg your pardon for abducting you. I could not wait for your party to reach Lorense. You traveled too slowly. My city is now at the front of his next attack. I need all the help I can get to battle him, to save my people. I have one Ilduin aiding me now. I need you, as well."

  "How do you know I am Ilduin?" Tess demanded, forgetting her decision not to confront the man. "Even I do not know that."

  "I know," said Lantav Glassidor, "because I summoned you."

  Tess felt shock ripple through her, and she stopped pretending to eat. She sat there, waiting for the feelings to run their course, feeling the stones warming yet again against her breast, as if to comfort her. Her sisters...

  Lantav smiled. "But rest, my lady. This has all been a shock to you." He rose and took a step toward the door. Then, as if remembering something, he faced her again.

  "But, unless I am mistaken," he said slowly, "you were not the only Ilduin traveling with your party."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Of course not," he said pleasantly. "But fear not, my lady. I'll find your sister."

  After the door closed and locked behind him, making her aware anew that she was not simply a guest, she had one thought and one thought only, and it screamed out of her mind as if it would fly instantly to the right ear.

  Run, Sara! Run swiftly. Run now!

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  Sara suddenly sat bolt upright, her eyes staring into the distance. "Tess!"

  Everyone turned immediately to her. "What about Tess?" Archer demanded.

  "She just told me to run. Now. Swiftly."

  Tom gaped at her, but the others didn't seem surprised.

  "Good advice, I'm sure," Archer said. "But I will not leave this town without Tess, and I will not let you go off alone. You would be too much at risk."

  "I'll take her," offered Tom, knowing full well he wasn't enough protection, but wanting to do anything he could to save Sara.

  Sara shook her head. "I'll not leave this town without Tess, either."

  Archer's mouth twisted into a frown. "By this I would guess that she has just learned that Glassidor knows about you, Sara. We must keep you hidden from him somehow."

  "Aye," said Ratha. "Well hidden. And well guarded until we find Glassidor."

  Giri spoke from the floor, where he had spread out his bedroll and was lazing. "By this I read that Tess is still alive and once again in possession of herself. For this we should give thanks."

  "Chaos," said Sara, her voice hushed. "Who is the Lord of Chaos?"

  For a long time no one spoke. The fire crackled, and a gentle rain began to beat against the windows. It was Tom, finally, who cleared his throat and answered.

  "Don't you remember, Sara?" he asked. "Chaos is he who will bring the great war."

  "The end of this age," said Giri, his voice rough. "Why did you think of him, lass?"

  "I don't know. Tess, maybe."

  Archer rose from the bench and strode to the window. "Glassidor cannot be Chaos. The Lord of Chaos, once unleashed, will be able to do far more evil."

  "Aye," agreed Ratha. "Only the Ilduin will be able to stand against him."

  "Or the Weaver," said Tom.

  "The Weaver." Archer repeated the name as if it brought him unbearable sorrow. "Aye, the Weaver. If she returns."

  Suddenly he turned and faced them all. "If Glassidor gains the assistance of enough Ilduin, the balance of power may be tipped enough to summon Chaos. Perhaps that is his purpose."

  Into the silence came Giri's hushed voice. "May the gods protect us all."

  Long after the others had fallen asleep, Archer stood at the windows, keeping watch over the street and rooftops. His thoughts were deep and brooding, edging into places he had not remembered for many years, places he would have been content to lock firmly away forever. But that, it seemed, was not to be his lot.

  Turning, he reached for his scabbard where it leaned against the wall and drew his sword quietly from it. Thin moonlight occasionally showed through the gently weeping clouds, and when it did, the steel gleamed so whitely it almost hurt the eyes.

  Holding it like an offering, blade on one hand, hilt on the other, he felt a door creak open in his mind. He remembered the day his father had placed this very sword in his hands. He remembered the gravity of his father's gaze and the equal gravity of his words: My son, use this only to defend the innocent and to bring peace.

  He had failed. He had failed most grievously, and since that time, the sword had ceased to sing in his hand.

  But holding it now, he felt it vibrate. He caught his breath and steadied his hands, certain he must have caused the movement himself.

  The moonlight struck the blade again, and this time a prism of color sprang from it, though the blade remained icy white. Then it hummed almost inaudibly.

  Astonishment fixed him for long moments, for he had thought this would never happen again.

  But it was happening now, and he tightened his grip on the sword, drawing the vibration into his own being. Then he closed his eyes and faced the truth.

  The conjunction was near. Chaos was trying to return.

  "Tess." He whispered her name, fearing that she was a key that could be turned either way.

  Time was running out.

  Tess slept not at all, whether from nerves or from having been forced to sleep for at least several days, she did not know, nor did she care. In the darkness of night, without even a candle to reveal anything she might do to any unseen watchers, she reached within her tunic and drew forth the bag of crystals Silver had given her.

  One at a time, she removed each stone and held it in her palm. They all glowed faintly and felt warm, but three glowed much more brightly: a clear one, a blue one and a red one.

  Did this mean other Ilduin were near? Of course it must. One would be Sara. The other would be the Ilduin who was working with Lantav Glassidor. And the third...

  Even as she thought of it, the clear stone grew hot in her hand and began to gleam more brightly. At once she folded her fingers over it, to hide it from any watchers, and felt it vibrate in her hand.

  This one must be her stone, she realized. Responding to her closeness. But what did that mean? What could it do? Anything?

  Quickly she tucked it into the pouch and studied the other two. The blue one was clear throughout, like a summer sky, deep enough to fall into. To her touch it felt comforting. Sara. She could almost feel Sara through it.

  That one she dropped back into the pouch for later. Her greatest concern was the other stone, the red one, the one that must represent the Ilduin who was aiding Glassidor. As she stared into it, she thought she saw something dark at its heart, a deep flaw.

  Fear pierced her, and she closed her hand around it, afraid to look deeper into that flaw.

  Then she heard the cry in her head. "Tess... help me... please..."

  Something about the voice was familiar, and yet Tess could not place it. She held the stone again, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let her mind go away inside itself, hoping that some memory would push itself to the surface. But nothing did. The same voice called out for help, almost sobbing as it did so, and Tess imagined her arms wrapping around the woman, holding her.

  "So long," the voice said. "So very, very long."

  Tess could feel the woman shuddering against her as she sobbed, long, plaintive cries emerging with a pain that clutched at Tess's heart and left her almost gasping to breathe.

  Then she felt a warmth rising within her, enveloping the woman. The cries slowly subsided into lingering pleas that fell upon the core of Tess's soul like moonlight on a diamond.

  "Save me," the voice said, quietly now. The panic was gone, and now Tess heard only an earnest longing. "Please. Save me."

  "I will," Tess said. "You will be free before the next sunset. I promise you."

  "Thank you," the voice said. "Thank you."

  She didn't know how much time had passed when she realized her hands were clenched between her breasts, holding the red stone tight to her skin. She only knew the connection had been broken, as if a piece of her soul had been pulled away. With a long, sad sigh, she put the red stone back into the pouch and closed her eyes.