'Lukien, listen to me," he whispered. "Akeela's not well. Something happened to him in Norvor."

'I know. He killed Mor."

'That's right, and he hasn't been the same since. He's demented, Lukien. He doesn't trust anyone, not even me. I just want you to be prepared when you see him."

Lukien was crestfallen. "Great Fate," he sighed. "It's that bad?"

'It is. I'll go and tell him you've returned and that you have the amulet. I'm sure he'll want to see you, but…" Graig shrugged. "Just don't expect the old Akeela, all right?"

Lukien couldn't answer. He and Trager followed Graig toward the throne room, which had always been vacant since Akeela's kingmaking. The hall outside the throne room was filled with civil servants.

They avoided Lukien as he milled among them. Graig went to the huge doors of the chamber, opening them and slipping inside. The great portals closed behind him.

'What's going on here?" Lukien asked, looking around at the drawn faces of the crowd. He recognized a number of the men, remembering them from meetings they had with Akeela. They were all servants of the chancelleries. "This looks like Mercy Court."

'Mercy? We'll get no mercy here!"

Lukien turned to see who had spoken. A small, bald man in the purple vest of the treasury looked up at him, but didn't seem to know who he was.

'Why do you say that?" Lukien asked. "What's happening?" "Thievery and tyranny, that's what's happening," said the toward the dais. "I heard about what happened in Norvor. Are you all right?"

'The amulets, Lukien. Give them to me."

'What's going on outside? Why are all those chancellery people here?"

'Paying their debts," said Akeela.

'Their debts? You mean paying for your library, don't you? Jiri and Neel told me about Baron Glass, Akeela. How could you arrest him?"

A flash of anger crossed Akeela's glassy eyes. "Barely home a minute and already you're telling me how to do things. Thank you, Lukien. I don't know what I'd do without you. Now please—give me the amulets."

'How is she?" Lukien asked. "Is she worse?"

'My wife is fine," said Akeela. "Or at least she will be once you've given me the bloody amulets."

'There's only one, Akeela," declared Lukien. He took the bag from his belt and dumped the contents into his hand. Then he lifted the amulet by its chain and held it up for Akeela to see. "I'm sorry, but this one was all we could find."

Akeela's expression fractured. "One? That's all?"

'Yes. We looked for the other one as long as we could, but we had to get back in time to save Cassandra." Lukien took yet another step toward the throne. He saw despair in Akeela's eyes, the depth of which he had never seen before. "But this one will work, Akeela. Figgis was right. I saw Kahan Kadar, and I saw his children. He's young. Unbelievably young, really."

'It will save Cassandra…"

'Yes," said Lukien. He went to the dais to be with Akeela. "It's only one, but it will save her. At least until Figgis can find the other amulet."

Akeela's thin hand reached out and took the Eye from Lukien. He let it dangle from its golden chain, watching it pulsate. For a moment, Lukien thought Akeela would weep. The pain on his face was enormous. But it fled as quickly as it had come, replaced by a brooding anger.

'Thank you, Lukien," he said. "You've probably saved Cas sandra's life. But there's something you just don't seem to understand. Cassandra is my wife. She's not yours. She never will be."

'What…?"

'I know, Lukien. I know what you did."

Lukien's heart froze. He took a step back from the throne. "Akeela…"

'You just couldn't be satisfied, could you? It's not enough that every maid in Lionkeep wants to bed you. You had to take the only woman I ever loved."

'Akeela, it's not like that. Cassandra loves you. I know she does!"

'And you?" thundered Akeela. "What do you think of me, Lukien? Do you love me so much you would rut with my wife behind my back? Is that your love, brother?" "No! I would never do anything to hurt you." "Brother," Akeela sneered. He stalked after Lukien, his eyes wild. "And so you steal from your brother, and break his heart, and ruin the only thing he loves in the world. That's how street scum treat their brothers, is it?" "Akeela, just listen…"

'Street scum. That's what you are, Lukien. My father should have left you there to rot."

'I'm not!" Lukien flared. For the first time in his life, he wanted to strike Akeela. "I'm just as good as you, Akeela. I'm better than you ever were! And I didn't take Cassandra to hurt you. I did it because I love her. And she loves me too."

'Of course she does," spat Akeela. "Everyone loves Lukien. Well, no more." He whirled and sat back down on his throne. Glaring down at Lukien, he said. "I'm the King of Lüria, and I'm making a decree.

You're banished, Lukien. You're never to set foot in Lüria again. If you do—" "Akeela, stop! This is madness!" "If you do," Akeela continued, "you will be killed." "You wouldn't do that," said Lukien. "Not to me." "Be assured, Lukien—if you can defile my wife, I can banish you from Lüria."

The statement struck Lukien like a hammer. "I'm sorry,

Akeela. You're right—I did this to you. But I never wanted to hurt you."

'I don't want your apology, Lukien," said Akeela. "All I want is for you to be gone. And I can do that.

You see? I'm stronger than you are. I can make you disappear."

Lukien nodded. "If that's what you want, then I will go. But promise me you'll take care of Cassandra."

'Of course I'll take care of her. She's my wife. I'll never let her go."

Somehow, Lukien knew it was true. Akeela's obsession with Cassandra was boundless. Slowly, regretfully, he started toward the doors. As he walked away he heard Akeela's haunting voice behind him.

'Good-bye, Bronze Knight."

A _keela waited until dark before going to see Cassandra. It was almost midnight, and except for the occasional footfalls of sentries, Lionkeep slept. The private wing he shared with his wife was all but abandoned, and Akeela had left strict instructions with Jancis and the other maids not to enter the area or interrupt him in any way. He was told that Cassandra was sound asleep, and that was perfect. He wanted to awaken her with the amulet. But the amulet's curse dictated certain priorities, and Akeela wanted to observe them flawlessly. It might be years until he found the second Eye of God, years before he could ever look at his beloved again. Tonight, he would savor her.

He walked alone through the empty hall, lighting his way with a taper in a candleholder. The shades of all the windows had been drawn, by his orders, and the torches along the walls had been extinguished.

Only the flicker from the candle guided him. Beneath his cape he held the amulet. He could feel its power glowing warm against his side, but he was not tempted to wear it. If it indeed had magic, he would not waste it on himself. At the end of the hall he saw the bedchamber, now Cassandra's private sick ward.

The door was closed but unlocked, and he turned the handle slowly, careful not to make a sound. As the door slid open he caught a glimpse of the room. Cassandra lay in the bed. Moonlight from the open curtains played on her gaunt face. Akeela stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It to join you until I find the other Eye of God. And I will find it, if it takes me forever."

'Akeela," pleaded Cassandra, "let me have it, I beg you."

Akeela smiled. "Now you will never die. You will be strong again, young and beautiful forever."

Again she reached for the amulet. "Please…"

'Yes," said Akeela. "All right. I'll put it on you. But first…"

He blew out the candle. The room went dark; he could no longer see her. Cassandra jumped at the blackness.

'Why'd you do that? I can't see."

'Nor can I, my love. Now keep still."

'But the light…"

'Shhh…"

Akeela widened the loop of chain, groping for Cassandra's head. When he felt the softness of her hair, he closed his eyes and dropped the amulet around her neck. Then he quickly turned away, facing the door. Cassandra said nothing. Akeela shook with excitement.

'Well?" he asked. "What do you feel?"

There was an awful silence, then a sudden, sharp breath. Akeela didn't dare turn around.

'Cassandra, are you all right?"

'I… I feel heat," she gasped.

'What's happening?"

Cassandra cried out, but the sound was full of joy. "It's working! I can feel it, Akeela."

Akeela wanted to see her, to throw open all the curtains and let the moonlight flood inside, but he didn't dare invoke the amulet's curse. It was working!

'What else?" he asked. "Tell me, please."

'Akeela, I am free." Cassandra's voice was a beautiful whisper. "I feel nothing. No pain."

'No pain," Akeela sighed. He could hardly believe the words. "It's a miracle…"

Cassandra laughed. "Look at me, Akeela!"

'A miracle," said Akeela. He did not turn around.

'Akeela, bring back the light. Look at me!"

'No. Stay in bed, Cassandra. Don't move." clicked softly, but did not awaken her. Careful not to blow out the flame, Akeela floated toward the windows and closed the curtains one by one, shutting out every small moonbeam. The candle flickered in its dish, throwing his shadow against the wall. He went to the bed and looked down at Cassandra. She did not stir. Her chest rose softly with her breathing. She had lost considerable weight and now looked skeletal. But to Akeela, she remained beautiful. He studied her, adoring her dank dark hair and her cracked, sickly lips. Soon she would be whole again. Akeela smiled. He reached out and brushed her cheek.

'My love," he whispered, "wake up."

Cassandra stirred, but did not awaken.

'Cassandra, it's me, Akeela." He gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. "Wake up."

This time Cassandra's eyes fluttered open, focusing on him slowly. "Akeela?" She squinted against the piercing candlelight. "What …?"

'Don't be afraid, Cassandra. You'll be all right now."

Cassandra struggled to rise. "Is something wrong?"

'No, don't sit up," said Akeela. "Just listen. You're going to be all right now. They found the amulet, Cassandra."

Cassandra gasped. Not surprisingly, her first word was, "Lu-kien?"

'Yes," said Akeela sourly. "Lukien found it." With his free hand he reached beneath his cape and drew the amulet out by its golden chain. Cassandra's eyes widened in awe. The amulet's jeweled center pulsated, throwing a crimson glow around the room. "It works, Cassandra. Lukien said so. It will save you."

'Oh, thank the Fate," moaned Cassandra. She reached out for it, but Akeela pulled it away.

'No. Not yet."

'Why not?" Cassandra asked.

Akeela did not answer her. He had never told her about the curse.

'There is only one amulet, Cassandra," he said. "They were not able to find the other."

'But it works, yes? It will save me?"

'It will. But you will be alone with its magic. I won't be able 'Nothing to say, my wife? You must think me a great fool. But I know what's happened between you and him. And I've dealt with it. Lukien is gone now. You shan't be seeing him again."

'You killed him?" gasped Cassandra.

'No, but I will kill him if I must. If you take off that amulet, or if you let yourself be seen, or if anything should happen to break the spell that keeps you, then I will hunt Lukien down and I will kill him."

"No…"

'And if he ever returns to Lüria for you, he will be executed."

Cassandra began to sob. "Akeela, please… listen to yourself!"

Akeela had listened, and he'd liked what he'd heard. He was powerful now, something he had never been before. Men feared him. Men like Baron Glass. Men like Lukien. With his eyes still closed, he reached out and touched Cassandra's cheek. He felt her tears and liked them, too.

'I told you I would never let you go, Cassandra."

Then he turned and went to the door. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he opened the door and closed it fast behind him. He had to struggle in the darkness to find the keyhole, but when he did he quickly turned the tumbler, locking away his shrieking wife.

'What? Why not?"

'Just don't," ordered Akeela. "I have something to tell you."

A gigantic feeling of loneliness engulfed him. But Cassandra was his now, completely. There was solace in that. He stared at the wall, avoiding the temptation to look at her.

'The amulet has saved you, Cassandra, but there's a price you don't know yet."

'Tell me," Cassandra demanded.

'There is a curse. I don't know how it works or why, but if you're ever looked on with human eyes, the spell that's keeping you alive will be broken." Akeela sighed miserably. "No one must ever see you, Cassandra. Not even me."

'What? You mean I'm a prisoner?"

'Until I find the other amulet, I can't look at you. No one can."

Cassandra bolted up in the bed. "No!" she cried. "This can't be!"

'Don't worry, my love. I've already thought about it. We'll take out all the windows in this wing and brick them up. And I'll hire blind servants for you, so you won't be alone…"

'Are you mad?" Cassandra shrieked. "I can't live like that!"

'Oh, but you will. You're well now, and I won't risk losing you again."

'No! I won't live like this. If that's how it will be, I won't wear this damned amulet!"

Akeela had to stop himself from turning around. "Don't you dare take it off. Don't you dare."

'You are mad," said Cassandra. "Oh, Akeela, please listen to me___"

'No, Cassandra, I will not listen. I have decided." Akeela closed his eyes and turned back toward the bed. "You will wear the amulet and wait for me to find its twin. Then we can be together forever."

'I don't want to be with you forever," said Cassandra. "You're insane, and I don't love you."

'Yes," hissed Akeela, "I know. You love Lukien. But you'll have all eternity to forget about him, Cassandra."

Cassandra was silent at the accusation.

PART TWO THE LIBRARIAN'S APPRENTICE G lwyn Toms sat in a chair with his leg outstretched, staring at the contraption in Figgis' hands. It was a shoe, essentially, but with a spring mechanism on its heel and a long series of straps up its neck. Its leather had been worked into unnatural curves. To Gilwyn, it looked more like a torture device than a shoe, but since it was a birthday gift he tried to smile. He was sixteen today, and if his mother was still alive she would have been here kissing him. But his mother had been dead two years now, and could give him nothing. Figgis beamed as he presented his gift, his rheumy eyes twinkling. He had worked long and hard on the thing and was proud of it, Gilwyn could tell. The boy kept his clubbed foot outstretched, hardly moving his fused toes. The appendage had been that way since his birth and its appearance no longer bothered him, nor did the look of his similarly useless hand. He sat back as Figgis eased the shoe onto his foot. There was no pain, just awkwardness. Teku, Gilwyn's monkey, bobbed excitedly from her perch on a shelf, her golden tail swaying like a snake.

'Just relax," said Figgis. With one hand he held Gilwyn's ankle; the other shifted the shoe back and forth. "I know it looks strange, but you'll thank me if it works."

Gilwyn was already thankful. Figgis had been like a father to him for years. Or a grandfather, really.

And now the promise of walking without a cane…

'If it works will I be able to run?" he asked.

'Let's start with walking, hmm?"

Teku squealed excitedly. She wrapped her tail around a spindle and swung down for a closer look.

'If this works as well as I hope," said Figgis, "you won't need your little friend so much. You'll be able to reach the highest scrolls yourself."

Gilwyn smiled. "Hear that, Teku? You might be out of a job soon."

'No, no," said Figgis. "There'll always be a place for her here, just like the rest of us." He gently eased Gilwyn's foot further into the shoe. Gilwyn felt his bent toes reach the leather sole, then noticed it was curved to match his deformity. Unlike a regular, flat sole, this one was humped. Surprisingly, it seemed to match the contour of his foot perfectly.

'All right so far?" asked Figgis.

Gilwyn nodded. "I think so."

'Good. Now don't fight it—just let your foot slip into place."

Gilwyn relaxed his clubbed foot the best he could and let the shoe fall in place around it. It was a snug fit, but Figgis had explained that was necessary for support. Figgis tested the fit by wiggling the shoe.

Finding no play in it, he smiled.

'Perfect," said the old man. "This just might work."

He began tightening the straps around the neck of the shoe, which ran up Gilwyn's calf almost to the knee. Gilwyn spied the door to Figgis' study. He could hear voices down the corridor, and hoped no one would come in and see them. As usual, the library was crowded. It was noon, a peak time for visitors, and a contingent of scholars had come from Marn. They had been polite to Gilwyn when he'd met them, but had pitied him when they saw his limp.

'That's too tight," Gilwyn complained. "It's pinching my skin."

'It has to be tight," said Figgis. "I told you; otherwise it won't support you." His old fingers worked the leather straps carefully, not wanting to hurt the boy. When he was finished, he leaned back to study his work. "There," he pronounced. "What do you think?"

Gilwyn stared at the shoe. It looked odd, with its hinged heel and springs and tangle of buckles, but it felt fine. A bit tight, but otherwise a good fit. Even Teku seemed to approve of it. The little monkey jumped from the bookshelf to Gilwyn's chair and climbed up on his shoulder, focusing her yellow eyes on the shoe as Gilwyn wiggled his foot.

'I like it," Gilwyn decided. It was strong looking, like the boots the Royal Chargers wore. "Thank you, Figgis."

'Don't thank me yet," said the old man. "Now comes the real test." He rose and went to Gilwyn's chair, then took him by the arm and pulled him gently to his feet. "Steady now…"

Gilwyn kept his weight on his right foot first, his good foot, then slowly tested the shoe. The hinged heel squeaked as he pressed down on it. Figgis shrugged.

'A little oil."

Gilwyn tried a bit more weight. To his surprise the shoe held firm, keeping his ankle straight. He felt the leather bulge around his calf, straining against the strong straps. Buoyed, he brought down his full weight.

'Easy," urged Figgis, still holding his arm. "I've got you."

For Gilwyn, who had never really stood on two feet before, it was a triumph. He couldn't keep the smile from overcoming his face. With Figgis' help, he chanced a step forward and found to his delight that the shoe continued to hold. When he lifted it from the ground, the springed heel pushed him gently forward, providing power to muscles that had atrophied years ago.

'It's working," said Gilwyn excitedly.

But as soon as Figgis removed his grip, Gilwyn began to wobble.

'Careful," said Figgis. "You'll have to get used to it."

Gilwyn struggled to balance himself, favoring his good foot. When he stopped wobbling he laughed with delight. Again he tried a step, and again the remarkable shoe urged him onward. Holding his arms out for balance, Gilwyn took the first real steps of his life.

'You did it, Figgis. I can walk!"

Figgis glowed. "Happy birthday, my boy."

worked to predict the moon shadow." The old librarian's face softened. "You can't hide in the library forever, you know."

'I'm not hiding," said Gilwyn. Again he turned toward the door. Holding himself up in the threshold, he looked out into the corridor, wishing someone would come and save him from the conversation. The fact that all of Lionkeep was turning out to see Figgis' prediction was precisely why he wanted to avoid the show. He wasn't like the boys of the keep. Even if he could walk now, they would still make fun of him.

If he went with Figgis tonight, the moon shadow wasn't the only thing that would attract attention. "Go without me, Figgis," he said "You don't need me there."

'But I want you there. This could be important for both of us. It's a chance for us to show Koth that we're just as important as the army, that we're not just a couple of bookworms."

'I know," said Gilwyn. "But I don't like the crowds. They stare at me."

'They'll be too busy staring at the sky to give you a second look." Figgis rose from the chair with a dramatic sigh. "Still, if you want to miss the moon shadow…"

'I won't miss it," said Gilwyn. "I'll be able to see it just fine."

Figgis went to his desk and started toying with the little model he'd built. It was called an orrery, and represented the movements of the heavenly bodies. Along with mathematics and books and the culture of Jador, Figgis also had a passion for astronomy. He alone had predicted tonight's moon shadow, and all of Koth was buzzing about it. Absently he pushed at the tiny planets, making them spin lazily on their rods.

'Ah, so I'll just go by myself, then," he said. "And when everyone starts applauding I'll take all the credit, too." His twinkling eyes turned to Gilwyn. "Is that what you want, apprentice?"

Gilwyn wouldn't answer. Instead he inched carefully toward the desk, studying the intricate model.

Figgis had used the orrery to explain his prediction to King Akeela. And the king had been impressed.

According to Figgis, he had even smiled.

'Will the king be there tonight?" Gilwyn asked. He flicked Gilwyn turned a bright smile on his mentor.

"It's a wonderful gift, Figgis. Thank you."

Figgis sat himself down in Gilwyn's vacated chair, admiring his handiwork. He smiled, not hiding his missing teeth. "Look at you, standing there straight as an arrow. Your mother would be proud."

Gilwyn nodded, wishing his mother could see him. Beith Toms had never had a lot of money, but she had one thing she'd always been proud of—her son. He hadn't seen his mother as often as he would have liked in the last years before her death; he had always been busy with Figgis, learning the librarian's trade.

But his mother hadn't minded. She had served in Lionkeep nearly all her life, one of countless servants who kept the castle running, and she had always known that her boy was barely a mile away, safe under Figgis' tutelage. It had been that way since Gilwyn was old enough to read; Figgis had become a surrogate father. But Beith was always there, not far, proud of her son, the scholar.

'You'll need to practice," Figgis cautioned. "Take it easy at first, don't push yourself. Your leg might be sore until the muscles get used to it, but soon it will grow strong."

'Yes, all right," said Gilwyn. He was still shaky but immensely pleased. He took a small step toward the door, hoping the Marnans would see him now, without his cane. But there was no one in the hall. A few figures straggled through the bookshelves, not noticing him.

'Now you can come and watch the moon shadow with me," said Figgis, "let everyone see you walking."

Gilwyn grimaced. With the excitement of his birthday, he had forgotten about the eclipse. "Uhm, about that, Figgis, I'd meant to tell you. I'd really rather not go with you, if that's all right."

'What?" The old man's expression fell. "Why not? Everyone from the castle will be there. Even General Trager." Figgis smiled slyly. "Don't you want to meet the general?"

Gilwyn shook his head. He had given up wanting to be a soldier, and no special shoe could change things. "Really, I'd rather not."

'But this is a big night for me. You know how hard I've the little metal globe that represented the sun, sending it spinning. From the corner of his eye he saw Figgis' face sour.

'No," replied Figgis. "You know he doesn't go outside."

'Not even for the moon shadow? I thought you said he was excited about it."

'You're trying to change the subject. But if you must know, King Akeela told me he'll be watching the moon shadow from the castle."

'Pity," said Gilwyn. King Akeela's presence was the only thing that might have tempted him to the gathering. But then, an appearance by the king would have been a far greater event than the moon shadow. Akeela the Ghost almost never ventured out of Lionkeep. Gilwyn had never even seen him.

Like his wife, the grotesque Cassandra, he shunned people, seeing none but his closest advisors.

Surprisingly, old Figgis was one of those advisors; despite his madness, the king loved his library. But the subject of the king was never to be broached with Figgis. When it came to Akeela, he was as closed as a coffin.

'You know," said Figgis as he toyed with his model, "there'll be a lot of pretty girls at the gathering tonight."

'So?"

Figgis shrugged. "Nothing really. Just a thought. But Chancellery Square will be packed with them, I'd imagine."

Chancellery Square. The name made Gilwyn chuckle. It was never called that any more, not since the king had abolished the chancelleries years ago. Some of the old chancellery buildings were still there, but they had mostly been taken over by General Trager's army. Figgis seemed to forget that sometimes. Or did he just prefer the old name?

'No girl wants a fellow like me," said Gilwyn. He held up his clubbed hand. "This isn't very attractive, you know. And you said yourself—there'll be plenty of other boys there. Squires and pages. Real boys."

'You are a real boy, Gilwyn. Don't ever let me hear you say that again."

'Yes," said Gilwyn softly. "Yes, all right."

Turning his gaze to the orrery on the desk, Figgis said, "You don't have to go with me tonight. I don't want to push you." He began moving the sun globe with his finger, distracting himself.

'I won't miss it, Figgis," Gilwyn promised. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. I know a place where I can watch the moon shadow perfectly."

Figgis didn't seem to care. "That's nice."

He was disappointed; his disappointment stabbed at Gilwyn. Gilwyn looked down at his foot, at the remarkable gift the old man had given him, and felt ashamed.

'Well, no matter," said Figgis suddenly. He rose and started toward the door. "We have a lot of work to do; the library is crowded. We'd best get to it."

Gilwyn started after him, his monkey Teku still on his shoulder.

'Take your cane," Figgis directed. "At least until you're more accustomed to the shoe."

'Yes, sir," said Gilwyn. He went to the chair where his cane was resting and retrieved it. When he turned around again, Figgis was smiling at him.

'Happy Birthday, my boy," he said warmly.

V_xn the south side of Lionkeep, the afternoon sun beat down on the bricked windows and barred balconies, just as it had done for years. It was midsummer, and the rooms in the castle's southern wing were furiously hot, making it all but unbearable for the queen and her blind attendants. Since there were no windows in the wing, or at least none that could be opened, fresh air was a rare commodity. It was just past noon, the hour when the sun did its worst, and the wing was eerily quiet. There was no sound from beyond the thick walls, no singing birds to ease the monotony, and Cassandra wondered as she sat by her mirror if she would ever hear a bird again. Sometimes, she couldn't even remember what they sounded like. She had some birds in cages, of course—Akeela never let her want for anything. But the music of her captives was stilted, not at all the same as she remembered from the meadows of Hes.

Just once, she thought dreamily. To hear a bird. To see a tree…

It wasn't funny, but it was the familiar black humor Jancis always used to cope with her blindness. She had never gotten used to it, not in sixteen years, but she no longer cursed Akeela for his cruelty. It was a warped gift Akeela had given Cassandra, but Cassandra was oddly grateful for it. Sometimes she felt ashamed. Knowing that Jancis had been blinded for her sake was a great weight to carry around. And there was simply no way to repay such a debt.

'We'll have Freen make us a special dinner tonight before he rushes off to the moon shadow,"

suggested Cassandra. "We'll eat early, and celebrate for ourselves." "But I can go, can't I, Cass?"

'Of course. Go and have a good time. And tell me all about this bloody thing when you get back. I'll wait up for you."

Jancis smiled, a beautiful, untainted smile. She felt for the brush in Cassandra's hand, then started working again. Cassandra tried to relax. She was hot and irritated and wanted to be with people, people that could see. She wanted to kill the endless rumors about her and let all of Koth see their queen, to prove to them that she wasn't grotesque and shedding skin with leprosy, and that she didn't shun onlookers because of her ugliness. She was still beautiful.

And that was her curse.

I am old, thought Cassandra. She studied herself in the mirror. But I do not look it.

She had given up wondering if she was immortal. It was obvious. Nothing could touch her. Not old age, not a cancer, and certainly not a man. Akeela longed to be with her, but he didn't dare. He had tried it once, in a fit of lust, wearing a blindfold so not to invoke the curse. The results had been an embarrassing disaster for Akeela, who wasn't a skilled lover even when he could see. Blinded, he had been worse than a crippled old man, groping madly for her body, hurting them both. He had left in shame and rage. And he had never come back to her bed. Now he only came to her in darkness, to talk and sometimes to read to her, and she could hear the change in him, too. He had grown weary and mad, but his lust had never been sated. Cassandra Akeela never spared any expense in making her prison exquisite. He had built new rooms for her, new wardrobes, even an inside garden for her amusement.

She had plenty of servants, all remarkably skilled despite their disabilities. She herself had seen dozens of human beings in her sixteen years of captivity, but no one had ever seen her. Not one. Not ever.

To see the sky.

Even with all his fortune, Akeela could not construct a sky for her.

Cassandra sat back, letting Jancis brush her hair. Jancis was nattering cheerfully about the moon shadow, and how all of Li-onkeep was turning out to witness it. Though she couldn't see the event herself, she nevertheless seemed happy about it, and that perplexed Cassandra. It had always perplexed her, Jancis' happiness. Cassandra regarded their shared reflection in the mirror. It was like a magic mirror, showing them a fractured past. Jancis had changed in the sixteen years. Her skin had aged. Her hair had changed, and now bore a jagged streak of grey. But not Cassandra's. Hers was as raven black as the moment she'd put on the amulet. Not a single grey hair dared show itself.

Jancis continued brushing Cassandra's hair. Cassandra felt her friend's fingers pulling through her locks, as warm and as safe as a mother's caress. Their relationship had almost become maternal.

'… and Megal will be there, and Freen from the kitchen," continued Jancis. "And General Trager too, I heard. It will be like a celebration." Jancis gave a sad smile, then paused in her brushing. "I wish I could see it."

Cassandra turned to look at her friend. Her eyes were white with blindness but hadn't lost their depth.

Right now, they were deep with regret. Cassandra took the hair brush from her friend.

'Others will tell you all about it," she said, "and then you can tell me. That'll be nice, won't it?"

Jancis nodded. "Yes."

'And tomorrow it will all be over, and we can both stop hearing about it!"

Jancis laughed. "And the others will have their memories, and you and I will have nothing!"

saw herself in the mirror and wanted to spit. Her beauty remained her greatest malady.

A desperate hatred grew inside her. Jancis obliviously brushed her hair. Cassandra wanted to scream from the heat.

'Stop!"

Jancis jumped back. "What?"

Cassandra snatched the brush from her and threw it against the mirror, cracking it.

'I can't take it any more!" She rose from her chair and stared at Jancis, who stared back blankly.

"This bloody heat, this bloody moon shadow, this whole bloody prison! I want out, Jancis."

Jancis smiled very calmly. "You broke the mirror."

'Damn the mirror!" said Cassandra. She turned and began pacing, the way she always did when anxious.

'Sit down, Cass," said Jancis. "Be at ease."

But Cassandra couldn't relax. This wasn't one of her typical tantrums. She felt different, near a breaking point. The incessant talk of the moon shadow had driven her mad.

'I'm sick of this place," she said. "I don't want to stay here."

'I know," said Jancis.

'You don't know! None of you know what it's like for me. You can all come and go as you please, but I'm stuck in this place. I want to see the moon shadow, Jancis. Everyone is going to see it. Even you're going to see it!"

Jancis lowered her head, and Cassandra felt an immediate stab of guilt.

'Oh, Jancis, I'm so sorry. That was stupid of me…"

'It's all right___"

'It isn't." Cassandra went to her friend. "Forgive me. But I'm going insane in this place. I want to get out so bad. I want to see the moon shadow, like everyone else."

'Me too," joked Jancis.

Cassandra's bitterness rose up like a wave. "Then let's."

Jancis laughed. "Cass, stop being silly."

'I mean it, Jancis. Let's go see this thing for ourselves."

'Cassandra, it's impossible."

'But it isn't, don't you see? You said yourself everyone's going to the parade ground to watch the moon shadow. The castle will be empty. We can watch it from the old garden."

'Cassandra, the heat is getting to you. You can't risk being seen. And I'm not going to help you get killed."

Cassandra took her friend by the shoulders. "No one will see us; it'll be dark and the castle will be empty. And no one goes to the garden any more, especially at night."

'You don't know that."

'Yes, I do. I remember how it was. And I bet it's still the same, right?"

Jancis turned her face away. "You're upset because of the heat…"

'No, I'm mad with boredom! I have to see the outside, Jancis, just once."

'It's too dangerous, Cass…"

'I don't care. I'll risk it."

Jancis frowned. "Oh really? And will you risk him, as well?"

Cassandra lowered her arms. She didn't have to ask who Jancis meant. Turning toward the broken mirror, she said, "No one knows where he is, Jancis. He might even be dead."

'Would you risk that? Have you forgotten Akeela's promise?"

'I haven't forgotten," said Cassandra dreadfully. The image in the mirror showed her pretty face, cracked in two by the fracture she'd dealt the glass. She still thought of Lukien sometimes, but he was just a memory to her now, no more tangible than air. If she were seen tonight, she would die. And if she died Akeela would try and kill Lukien—he had repeated that promise many times over the years. But he would have to find Lukien first, and that seemed very unlikely.

'I can't go on like this," Cassandra whispered. "I have to see the sky. Just once. Just for a moment."

Jancis floated up behind her, putting a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Don't, Cass, please."

'I have to," said Cassandra. "It's worth the risk. I don't care if it kills me." She turned toward her friend. "No one will know, Jancis. We'll sneak out when everyone else has left for the grounds. And I can describe the whole thing for you. Wouldn't you like that?"

cause the wardens knew his face and familiar limp they let him pass without question. He soon found himself in the quietest part of Lionkeep, near Queen Cassandra's rooms. Because most of the eccentric queen's servants were blind, he always had little problem making his way up through the tower. Hindered only by the noise from his shoe, he climbed the spiral steps with remarkable ease, no longer needing his cane. And when he came to the third level of the castle, he paused at the doorway of the turret to look around. The hall, like the rest of the tower, was empty. Gilwyn smiled at his luck. His destination was on the third level, just beyond a storage area used for tools and old, useless junk. It was usually deserted at this time of day, and tonight was no exception. He passed the narrow hall, making his way to the storage room where he found the door unlocked. The room was dark, and the shutters on all its windows had been closed. Most of the shutters had been locked with heavy, rusted padlocks. One window hadn't been, and it was just big enough for Gilwyn to squeeze through. He picked past the collections of old wares, feeling his way through the dark. Teku chattered anxiously in his ear. Gilwyn put a finger to his lips. "Shhh."

He reached the window and undid the rusty latches, then pulled open the shutters. There was no glass, just an oval-shaped opening above a wide ledge. The window overlooked a tired old garden far below and the remnants of Chancellery Square in the distance. Gilwyn could already see the crowds gathering on the grounds in the moonlight. He leaned down and let Teku drop from his shoulder. The little monkey hopped through the window and clambered out onto the ledge. Ten feet to the left was an abandoned balcony, overgrown with lichens and penned by stone gargoyles. There was no door to the balcony. Gilwyn supposed there had been one once, but it had been bricked up years ago. So the balcony stood abandoned and neglected, and no one seemed to remember its existence, leaving it free for Gilwyn to discover. It had been his private retreat for years, with a spectacular view of the parade ground and the sprawling capital. On summer nights he would come here to read, and when his mother had died he had come here to weep. And he had never 'Yes," said Jancis, her voice shuddering. "But—"

'No," said Cassandra. "No arguments. I'm going to do it. With or without you."

Jancis was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached out and felt for the amulet beneath Cassandra's garment. "If you break the curse, this won't keep you safe. Aren't you afraid?"

'Yes," said Cassandra. "I'm afraid that if I don't see this damn moon shadow, I'll lose what's left of my mind."

_,'~'t't_s the sun went down on Koth, the great castle of Lionkeep began to empty. The moon shadow would not begin until hours after dusk, but the king's servants were eager to celebrate and so began gathering at the parade ground early. They'd been promised music and food and acrobats to entertain them, and people throughout the city began to swarm the streets in anticipation of Figgis'

prediction, bringing traffic to a standstill. It was like a holiday had come, for only the king's great librarian had been able to predict such things, and he had promised that such knowledge of the heavens would usher in a grand new age of science. Even the soldiers, who were everywhere in Koth these days, anticipated the moon shadow. Old Chancellery Square, now the almost exclusive purview of General Trager and his army, had been flattened and turned into a huge parade ground, big enough for his forces to drill on and big enough to be seen from the towers of Lionkeep.

Gilwyn himself had tried very hard not to be seen. He didn't have any books or scrolls to deliver to Lionkeep tonight, but he knew Lionkeep as well as anyone, for he had explored it copiously as a child.

Except for the forbidden wing of Queen Cassandra, Gilwyn knew every inch of the place. Until he had been old enough to join Figgis in the library, exploring Lionkeep had been his only solace. He knew the place better than most of the servants, better than the king himself, he suspected. Tonight, he wanted his best, most private spot.

With Teku perched on his shoulder, Gilwyn made his way through the empty halls. He had slipped past the wardens at the southern gate, feigning a message for a minor official, and be told anyone about the balcony, not even Figgis. It was the perfect hiding place, but it had one dangerous drawback—it was difficult for a lame boy to reach. But Gilwyn had risked it, many times. The ledge was strong and wide enough to support him, and the castle wall was rough with good handholds. And now that he had his new shoe and could walk with relative ease, Gilwyn wasn't frightened at all. He started to follow Teku out onto the ledge, then remembered the food in his pockets.

'Oh, wait," he said, rummaging through his pants. Any small thing might disturb his balance, so he pulled the apple out of his pocket and held it out for Teku. "Here, this is yours."

The monkey took the apple, bouncing in approval. She quickly ran with it to the balcony, set it down, then returned for a dry sausage and Gilwyn's folding knife, both of which she deposited near the apple.

When she was done, she climbed onto the head of a gargoyle and urged her master forward.

'I'm coming," said Gilwyn, slipping through the window. With his good right hand he took a firm hold of the ledge. Leaning against the castle wall for support, he set his foot down gently. Slowly, carefully, he shuffled along the ledge toward the balcony, hidden like a wraith in the darkness. The ledge was slippery with moss but Gilwyn was used to it. Though he couldn't walk without limping, he proved remarkably athletic at crossing the ledge; he soon reached the balcony. He wrapped his arm around the gargoyle for support and dragged himself to safety.

It was a beautiful night. The Fate had given Figgis a beautiful venue for his moon shadow. Gilwyn looked up at the moon, which was amazingly bright on his face, and wondered at the precision of the heavens. Figgis was very smart, smarter than any of the scholars that came to his library, but Gilwyn still found it hard to believe that the world was round, as Figgis had claimed. It was like a ball, said Figgis, and the sun and the moon were like that too. Sometimes, according to Figgis, the world blocked the sunlight, casting a shadow on the moon. Moon shadows weren't magic, and they weren't the will of the gods. They were scientific, Figgis claimed, and they were predictable.

'Amazing," whispered Gilwyn. He strained to see past the trees, trying to pick Figgis out of the distant crowd but it was impossible to sight the librarian among the throngs. Gilwyn did see horses though—the brilliant, armored steeds of the Royal Chargers. Their banners were everywhere, blowing in the breeze.

And their pages were everywhere, too. Gilwyn sank back from the rail and sat down on the cool stone of the balcony. Teku squatted down in front of him and held out her apple. As Gilwyn unfolded his knife and began slicing off pieces of the fruit, he began daydreaming. Once, a long time ago, he had wanted to be a Royal Charger. He had wanted to ride a horse like the great Lukien. He had even foolishly thought his foot and hand might heal. But by his tenth birthday he knew that could never be, and had given up the dream forever. To this day he had never even ridden a horse.

'Maybe someday," he said, regarding his strange new shoe. It had already done wonders for his walking. Of course, he could never join the Chargers, not with a hand like his, but maybe riding a horse wasn't completely impossible any more. "We can have our own horse," he said to Teku. The monkey grinned at him through a mouthful of apple. Gilwyn sliced off a wedge for himself, adding, "Then we can ride through the parade ground like the rest of them, just like Lukien would have."

Teku chattered, but Gilwyn knew it was only for another piece of fruit. He surrendered, handing the rest of the apple to Teku and putting aside his silly dream. Lukien was gone and had been for years. Only his legend remained.

Jbarely ten minutes before the hour of the moon shadow, Cassandra stalked through the darkened halls of Lionkeep, her heart pounding in her temples, her ears tuned to every tiny sound. The sound of her own anxious breathing alarmed her as she led Jan-cis by the hand, searching for the garden she could barely remember. It had been sixteen years since she had escaped her elegant prison, and her eyes were wide with wonder at seeing Lionkeep again. As she inched forward, stealthily avoiding human eyes, Cassandra felt a rush of fear and exhilaration. With lands' help she had slipped past her blind servants, not even breathing as Jancis explained how the queen was sleeping and Jancis couldn't see the food he'd stolen. "What are you doing out here, girl? Why aren't you gone to see the moon shadow with the rest of them?"

'I'm… on my way there now," said Jancis. Then she frowned. "And why aren't you there?"

'What good would it do me? I don't need to hear everyone ooh and ahh over something I can't see."

He stuffed the chicken leg into his trouser pocket. Unlike Jancis, he had been blind since birth and didn't seem to care much about the things he couldn't see. He was well-adjusted and friendly, and his blindness never seemed to bother him at all. "But you should get going if you're gonna catch the moon shadow yourself." He stood aside, knowing instinctively that Jancis was right in front of him.

'Yes," said Jancis. "All right…"

Cassandra urged her gently forward.

'Good night, Egin," said Jancis.

'G'night," Egin replied, then wandered back toward the private wing. Jancis' shoulders slumped as she heard him walk away.

'You see?" she snapped. "We almost got caught!"

'Keep your voice down," said Cassandra. Quickly she grabbed Jancis hand and began dragging her away from the scullery. There was little time until the moon shadow, but they were close to the garden now and past the worst of their journey. Cassandra quickly located the door that would take them outside. It was just as she remembered it, just past the scullery and neatly hidden behind a bend in the hall. The door was rusted, like everything else in this rarely used area, but Cassandra forced it open with a tug. Flakes of rust fell from the hinges as the door screeched open, revealing a dark and overgrown patch of weeds. Startled by the state of the garden, it took Cassandra a moment to remember its layout.

There had been a lawn here once, well-manicured and lined with lilies. Recalling a simple path of cobblestones, she looked down and caught a glimpse of its remains, a ribbon of neglected stones beneath the encroaching grasses, winding its way into the darkness of the garden.

'This way," said Cassandra. She led Jancis into the weed didn't want to be disturbed. Megal and Ruthanna, her young chambermaids, had believed Jancis' lie entirely and had smiled at the news, saying how sad it was that Cassandra wouldn't be able to see the moon shadow, as if they had forgotten their own blindness.

Because no one with sight except for Akeela was allowed in her private wing, Cassandra was confident she wouldn't be seen. But the abandoned garden, she recalled, was just beyond her forbidden rooms, near the first floor scullery. She had gambled that the kitchen girls had left for the moon shadow, and so far her bet had paid off—she could see no one. More importantly, no one could see her. She was free, for the first time in memory, and it was wonderful. Akeela had shackled her but she had picked the lock, damn him, and would at last see the stars again.

'Stay with me, Jan," she whispered. "Not much further."

Because Jancis rarely strayed from their private wing, she was unfamiliar with this part of the castle and had to be led by the hand. Jancis' grip was cold with fear and her breathing came in nervous gasps.

'I want to go back," said Jancis. "Please, before we're seen."

But they were so close now, Cassandra knew they would make it. "No," she said. "Keep walking."

'Cass, please…"

'Shhh!"

There was moonlight streaming through the windows and smoky torches in the hall. The scullery doors were just up ahead—the hardest hurdle they would need to leap. Before Cassandra could peek inside, a figure emerged suddenly from the scullery, startling her. Her pulse exploded with fear as the man's eyes turned to her.

'Hello?" he asked. "Is someone there?"

It was Egin, Cassandra's fuller. His dye-stained hand held a chicken wing that he'd stolen from the stores. Cassandra held her breath, forcing down her panic. Egin was blind, and his sightless eyes passed over her without recognition. Cassandra quickly pulled Jancis forward and nudged her to say something.

'Uh, yes, it's me," said Jancis awkwardly. "Is that you, Egin?"

'Jancis?" probed Egin. The fuller's face relaxed, knowing that There was not a soul to be seen or heard. Cassandra marveled at the silence. Far in the distance, she could hear the dull murmur of people on the parade ground, gathered for the coming moon shadow but Lionkeep itself was a tomb, with only the breeze creeping through its halls. Cassandra looked up at the moon, so perfect in the sky, ready to be devoured in the shadow of their world.

'Can you see the moon shadow?" Jancis asked.

'Not yet," said Cassandra. But then the smallest sliver of darkness came across the moon. "Wait…"

Cassandra squinted, then heard a cheer go up from the parade ground. "Yes! It's starting."

Jancis smiled and squeezed Cassandra's hand. "Tell me."

Without fear, Cassandra draped an arm around Jancis and began to tell her everything she saw.

vJilwyn waited an hour for the moon shadow to begin, mindlessly cutting off slices of sausage as he sat back against the cold stone of the balcony. Teku had finished her apple and amused herself by jumping from one gargoyle to another. A pleasant breeze stirred through the balcony; all was silent but for the far-off merriment from the parade ground. Gilwyn glanced at the moon. Figgis had been very precise about the time of the shadow, but Gilwyn had no timepiece to test the old man's accuracy. Still, he suspected it would be very soon. Then he saw the first brush of shadow. He put down his knife and struggled to his feet.

'Look, Teku, it's starting."

Darkness slowly crept across the moon's surface. Gilwyn heard a cheer rise up from the parade ground and knew that somewhere in that throng, Figgis was smiling. He laughed, delighted for his mentor.

'He did it," he said. "He was right."

Excited, he went to the edge of the balcony and leaned out over the rail. Teku climbed onto his shoulder, as if to get closer to the sky. Together they watched as the moon shadow took hold, gradually inching its way across the distant orb. The world fell silent. And in the silence Gilwyn heard something remarkable.

patch, then shut the door behind them. "It's a bit overgrown…"

'A bit? Cassandra, I can feel the grass up my skirt!"

'It'll hide us better," said Cassandra, then plowed ahead with Jancis in tow. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and up above she saw the stars. They winked at her like long lost friends. The moon was stout and bright in the heavens, throwing its light on the forgotten garden. Cassandra stopped, unable to move, unable to pull her gaze from the sky. She let her hands drop to her side, and all at once forgot the curse of the amulet and the danger of being outside.

'It's beautiful. I had forgotten how amazing it is."

The stars were abundant, too numerous to imagine. They swept across the sky in a milky arc.

Cassandra's legs wavered beneath her.

'Cass? Are you there?"

'Yes," whispered Cassandra. She looked at Jancis, at her confused face and unseeing eyes, and she pitied her. Smiling, she took her friend's hand again. "Come. I'm going to explain it all to you."

They walked alone through the tall weeds, brushing aside the grasses as they made their way at last to the abandoned garden. The tower rose over them, but that was abandoned too, so they were not afraid of being seen. Cassandra spied the small stone bench in the center of the garden, where once she had sat and dreamed of Lukien, and where Akeela had bored her with love poems. The bench, like the rest of the garden, was thick with moss and lichens. Rows of dandelions rose up through the brickwork, and the beds of lilies and other perennials overflowed with tall, choking weeds. A few gallant rose bushes bloomed among the tangles of unpruned fruit trees, and rotting apples littered the grounds, chewed to pieces by insects. The place stank of ferment. But Cassandra didn't care. She was mesmerized by it all, and even the decay enchanted her.

'We're here," she whispered.

Jancis' blind eyes maneuvered over the garden. "Are we alone?"

'Oh, yes."

Voices.

Startled, he looked down from his perch and saw two figures in the garden far below, cloaked by the overgrown plants. Gilwyn took a quick step back, not wanting to be seen. But the figures in the garden had not discovered him. They spoke in hushed voices, their faces turned toward the moon. Once again Gilwyn peered over the balcony to steal a better look. They were women. One was much older than Gilwyn, at least thirty, with plain brown hair streaked with gray and clad in unremarkable clothes. But the other was a vision, and stopped Gilwyn's gaze cold. She was young and remarkably beautiful. Her raven hair tumbled down her back like a waterfall. Her skin was perfect, vibrant and glowing with health, and her skirt clung to her in the breeze, revealing her alluring shape.

'Who…?"

In all his visits to the castle, Gilwyn had never seen her before. He supposed she was a visitor to Lionkeep, a diplomat's daughter, perhaps. But whoever she was, she was far more interesting than the moon shadow. Gilwyn sank down behind the balcony, spying her through the space between rails. Her hand was raised toward the moon—she seemed to be describing it to her companion. Gilwyn realized suddenly that the older woman was blind, no doubt one of Queen Cassandra's servants. But the younger girl was no servant, certainly. Her clothes were far too expensive, her face and hands too regal.

'She's beautiful," whispered Gilwyn. There was a sudden pain in his heart. He wanted to call down to her, to rise from his hiding place and wave for her attention, but he knew that he was only a librarian's apprentice, and no one as beautiful as she could ever care about a clubfooted boy.

The moon shadow continued for almost an hour. The figures in the garden watched the celestial show.

Gilwyn-missed it entirely. Too enamored with the dark-haired girl, he hardly noticed the passing of time.

And when the moon shadow was over, the two strangers fled the garden, disappearing quickly into the confines of the trees. When they were gone, when he was sure they couldn't see him, Gilwyn emerged from his hiding place and stared into the empty garden.

'Teku," he said softly, "I have to meet that girl."

N, light after night, Gilwyn returned to his little hiding spot, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired girl. Night after night he would brush his hair, smooth down his clothes, and go with Teku to the balcony, anticipating her arrival. And night after night he was disappointed.

The girl had captivated Gilwyn. He spent his days in the library daydreaming about her, causing him to bring the wrong books to the scholars or to forget his chores entirely. And though Figgis repeatedly asked what was troubling him, Gilwyn kept the knowledge of the girl to himself, sure that Figgis would berate him for skulking around Lionkeep looking for her. So he did what he could to finagle plum assignments out of his mentor, anything that involved delivering books or messages to the castle. There were always manuscripts being requested by Akeela and his staff. Still, Gilwyn's many trips to the keep went unrewarded, and after a week of pining he knew more drastic measures were needed. Since the girl wasn't blind, she could be anywhere in the keep. Yet the hope of running into her in the castle's "open"

spaces had proved fruitless. Gilwyn realized that his best chance of seeing her meant trespassing into the queen's forbidden wing. Her servants were blind anyway, he reasoned, and so would never detect him if he was careful. But he couldn't speak to anyone—he couldn't risk being recognized, not until he plained how he had seen her in the garden the night of the eclipse, and asked her to meet him tomorrow night in the same spot. And when he had finished he sat back and considered what he had written. He decided that his note needed at least some sort of signature, so at the bottom of the paper he wrote, "Your Adoring Servant."

Satisfied, he folded up the paper and stuck it in his pocket. Calling Teku to his shoulder, he emerged from the study and went in search of Figgis. He found the old man laboring with a stack of manuscripts that had just arrived from Paaral, a city north of Lüria and well-known for its poetry. Figgis' wrinkled face glowed happily as he pushed the wooden cart full of papers down the hall, searching for just the right place among the endless leaves of poetry. When he saw Gilwyn, he waved him over.

'Gilwyn, they've come," he said. "I need your help cataloging them."

'All right," said Gilwyn. "We'll do it as soon as I get back from Lionkeep. You said there were some books to deliver, right?"

'That can wait." Figgis hefted his ledger and began scanning the shelves, tabulating the book numbering system he himself had created. "It's going to take all day to get these Paaral poems in order."

'But you said King Akeela was waiting for the books."

Figgis shrugged. "No hurry."

'But I always deliver the books to Lionkeep around noon. Graig is probably expecting me."

Figgis turned to regard the boy. "You're very keen on going to Lionkeep lately." His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

'No reason. Just trying to get my work done on time." Gilwyn smiled, sure that Figgis suspected something. Mercifully, Figgis didn't pursue it.

'All right then, keep your secret." Figgis shooed Gilwyn away. "Off to the keep with you. But don't dawdle—there's work to be done."

Gilwyn tried not to grin. "Thanks, Figgis," he said, then turned and started back down the hallway.

'Don't forget the king's books!" Figgis hollered after him.

knew the girl would actually meet with him. It was a dilemma that seemed to have no answer.

Then Gilwyn remembered Teku.

Teku had many talents. She was a monkey, but Figgis had trained her to be much more than a pet for Gilwyn, and her time with the old librarian had made her intelligent and resourceful. And she was a Ganjeese monkey, an extra special breed. Ganjeese monkeys were expensive and sought after, because they could learn anything, and not just tricks. They could understand language and reply in rudimentary grunts and chirps, and they bonded with their masters in an unusual, almost preternatural way. Teku had been Gilwyn's right arm. More precisely, she had been his crippled left hand. When he needed a book or scroll he couldn't reach, she fetched it for him. She scaled the library's bookshelves faster than Figgis ever could with his ladder, and she had made the daunting task of navigating the place easy for the crippled apprentice. In many ways, she was Gilwyn's best friend. Now, he needed a favor from her.

It was forbidden for Gilwyn or anyone else to enter the queen's private wing. But Teku was a monkey, so she wasn't really confined by such rules.

Was she?

Gilwyn didn't know, and he was past caring. He would write a note to the strange girl, address the paper to her alone, and hope that whoever found Teku would know to bring his message to her. It was risky, because anyone might find Teku's note and read it themselves, but he wouldn't sign the letter with his own name. He would be more crafty than that, asking the unknown girl to meet him in the abandoned garden. There he would spy from his private perch, and if she came alone he would meet her. If she came with others, he would hide. And if she didn't come at all…

Gilwyn quickly suppressed that idea. His one hope was to lure the girl into a secret rendezvous, a hope that rested on the little shoulders of a monkey.

Years of working with Figgis had made Gilwyn good with words, but in the end he settled on the simplest of sentiments for his note. He addressed it to the "dark-haired beauty," ex 'I won't," Gilwyn called.

If not for Figgis' reminder, he would have forgotten his delivery entirely.

'Sorry," Gilwyn offered. He hobbled into the room and set his bag of books down on the Warden's cluttered desk. "I was busy at the library with Figgis. He just got a delivery of poetry scrolls from Paaral."

'You look tired." Graig gestured toward a chair near his desk. "Sit and rest a bit." He reached for the bag and started nosing through the texts Akeela had ordered. Graig pulled one of the books from the bag, a collection of love poems much like the ones that had arrived from Paaral.

'More nonsense for him to read to the queen," he said with a sigh. He leaned back, taking a long drag on his pipe. Gilwyn took the opportunity to rest, sitting down and rubbing his aching ankle. The shoe Figgis had made him was working remarkably well, but its straps had left welts on his skin.

'I can't stay long," he said. "Lots to do."

'That old maniac works you like a dog," said Graig. He began leafing through the poetry book, clucking at the sugary passages. "The queen likes this drivel," he said. "And Akeela adores reading it to her."

'The queen has very little else," said Gilwyn.

Graig nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

'She's lucky to have a husband who reads to her." Gilwyn glanced at his crippled hand. "Not everyone knows what it's like to be ugly, Graig. I feel sorry for the queen."

There was a silence between them. The awkwardness made Gilwyn clear his throat.

'You know, I've been thinking about the queen," he said suddenly. "About her servants, I mean.

They're all blind, aren't they?"

'Of course," said Graig. "You know that." "Yes, but how do they manage? I mean, they must have some sighted people to help them."

Graig shrugged and blew a ring of smoke from his lips. "I suppose."

'You mean you've never seen them?"

'Who?"

'The people who help Queen Cassandra."

'Are you kidding? Not even I'm allowed in that part of the In less than an hour, Gilwyn was outside of Lionkeep with his sack of books. Because walking remained difficult for him, and because the load of books would have tired out anyone, he always rode to the keep on a wagon drawn by a single, worn-out horse named Tempest. The horse and its master had become a familiar sight at Lionkeep over the years, and were mostly ignored when they entered the parade ground and main courtyard of the keep. As usual, there were soldiers drilling on the grounds and boys and girls in the yard, grooms and servants mostly, who looked after the keep and the soldiers they worshipped. A few familiar faces smiled and waved at Gilwyn as he arrived. He made his way through the yard, carefully avoiding the groups of boys, and brought his wagon to a stop at the entrance to the keep, where a pair of guards with halberds granted him entrance. With his sack of books over one shoulder and Teku on the other, he went in search of Warden Graig. The warden had been in charge of Lionkeep since anyone could remember. He was warm and friendly, and always welcomed Gilwyn when he came to the keep. He was also Gilwyn's only conduit to King Akeela. The king saw very few people, and of course couldn't be bothered with apprentice librarians, so whenever Gilwyn delivered books to Lionkeep they went through Graig.

The Head Warden had an office on the keep's ground floor, near the main entrance. In earlier days, before age had enfeebled him, he would regularly patrol the courtyard. Since he could barely walk without a cane now, General Trager had asked for his retirement, but Graig had pleaded with King Akeela to let him stay, and Akeela had relented, relegating him to paperwork in a shabby little room.

Warden Graig was in his chair when Gilwyn arrived, serenely staring out the window as he smoked his pipe. His office door was open, and when he heard Gilwyn enter he turned to smile at him.

'Ah, you're late," said the old man. "I expected you earlier."

castle." The warden's suspicious nature rose up. "You're not thinking of snooping around there, are you?"

'Don't be silly. I'm just wondering, that's all."

'It's not good to wonder such things, boy," Graig warned. "Just do your job, deliver your books, and don't get underfoot. And don't go near the queen's wing. Her servants may be blind, but they'll sniff you out like bloodhounds."

Gilwyn rose from his chair with a smile. "All right," he said, calling Teku to his shoulder.

'I mean it, Gilwyn." Graig looked straight though the pipe smoke at the boy. "Stay away from there. If the king finds out you're poking around, he'll murder you."

'Don't worry," said Gilwyn. "I was just curious. I thought maybe the queen had some sighted servants, that's all."

'Why would you think that?"

Gilwyn didn't know how to answer. "I'm a librarian," he said. "I'm supposed to wonder about such things."

'You're an apprentice librarian and a pain in the backside. Now go on, get back to work." vJilwyn didn't return to the library. Not long after meeting with Graig, he found himself near the southern wing of the castle-Queen Cassandra's wing. He had been this close to her quarters many times before, for it was where his secret balcony lay, and he knew that the grounds around the wing were unkempt and abandoned, just as they had been that night he'd seen the girl.

He skulked into the garden where he had first seen the girl, at once noticing the overgrown rose bushes. The thorns tore at his shirt and he brushed them aside, shielding Teku as he walked. When he parted the branches, Lionkeep rose up like a fortress before him. His mouth dropped open in surprise, for he had never seen the keep from this vantage before, and it frightened him. It looked haunted, a great ruin slowly being devoured by time. There were no windows, only bricked up spaces where glass had once been, and all the balconies had been torn down, so that only their rubbled remains lay at the base of the wall. A stony silence entombed the garden. The afternoon sunlight struggled down through the thickets, but the southern wing of Lionkeep seemed immune to its warmth. "How do we get in?" Gilwyn whispered. He saw doors with padlocks and knew they hadn't been opened for ages, but then he remembered that the visitors to the garden had made it outside, and knew that one of the portals must be unlocked. He stepped forward, emerging from the thickets until he spied a broken path of cobblestones winding through the weeds and bushes. After a cautionary glance around, he and Teku plunged forward, ducking to avoid the worst of the branches. Teku chattered uneasily on his shoulder. The path had obviously not been used for ages, but it seemed to lead directly toward the southern wing. Soon Gilwyn discovered the terminus of the path—an abandoned, broken door.

'Well, hello there___"

Teku bobbed on his shoulder, understanding their discovery. Gilwyn didn't waste a moment. He reached for the door and pulled it open, revealing the forbidden confines of Lionkeep. A hallway greeted him, wide and lit by torches. Up ahead were voices. He froze, afraid to go further, but remembered what Graig had told him—all of the queen's servants were blind. Time to find out…

He stepped across the threshold, closed the door behind him, then turned to face the room. The torches were warm on his face and the voices in the distance coaxed him onward. He put a finger to his lips, and Teku understood the gesture perfectly. A surge of excitement coursed through him, pushing him onward. He took a few steps, rounded a bend in the hall, and blundered into a room full of people.

Fear froze him in place. One man and two young girls stood just yards away, talking to each other.

The girls were laughing and holding trays of half-eaten food. The man busied himself knocking about pots and pans in a steaming wash basin and talking to the girls. Remarkably, none of them had seen Gilwyn enter their midst. Gilwyn's eyes darted about the place, taking it all in. He was in a scullery, with cooking utensils hanging from the walls and wraps of dried meats and vegetables dangling from the low ceiling.

The place glowed with warmth and good humor Freen sliced the sausage, handing some to each of the girls and sampling a medallion for himself.

'Good," said one of the chambermaids.

'It's hot," said the other. "Any beer?"

Freen nodded and rose unexpectedly from the chair. Gilwyn backed away. The man went to a cupboard and pulled out a stout bottle with a cork in its neck. Then he deftly collected three short glasses, which he quickly distributed as if he were dealing cards. One of the girls took the bottle from him, finding each glass with her fingertip before pouring. Gilwyn watched, enthralled, as the three drank and ate, completely unaware of him. And just when he felt his confidence grow, when he was sure he would never be discovered, another stranger entered the room. Startled, Gilwyn sank back. The woman faced him, and for a terrifying moment Gilwyn stared at her, afraid he'd been seen. But soon he noticed the same blindness in her eyes as all the others. More importantly, he recognized her.

'Jancis?" said the cook. "Is that you?"

It's her, Gilwyn realized. The other one…

He recognized her instantly. She wore the same plain clothes she had donned the night of the eclipse, and her hair retained the unforgettable, jagged steak of gray. The woman smiled as she approached the table. The man held out the ring of sausage toward her.

'Sausage, Jancis. Want some?"

'No, Freen, thank you. I came for Megal and Ruthanna."

The two girls rolled their blind eyes. "Oh, no," said one of them. "What's wrong?"

'Nothing is wrong, but King Akeela will be coming tonight. Let's make sure the place is clean, all right? Megal, you can start with Cassandra's rooms."

The girl Megal nodded and got to her feet. "Yes, ma'am."

'Not just now," said Jancis. She was obviously the head of the staff and commanded respect. "Sit and finish up. There's time until the king comes. Just make sure you do a good job, right?"

'We will," replied the other girl. She smiled mischievously. "The king's coming to read to the queen again, hmm?" as the blind servants went about their work, oblivious to their intruder. Gilwyn studied the girls quickly, but knew at once that neither of them was the one he'd seen in the garden. He inched forward, floating like a wraith toward them, the sounds of the man's activity covering his approach as he scrubbed his pots and pans. He was an older fellow with dark skin and oily hair, but he smiled at the girls as he spoke, as if his blind eyes could appreciate their beauty.

'Give it all here," he told them, directing them to put their dirtied dishes into his basin.

'Just a moment," said one of the girls. She walked past the man and set her tray down on a table very near Gilwyn. Gilwyn held his breath, fascinated as he watched her scrape the plate into a waste bin. She was young, probably no older than Gilwyn himself, and he could tell by her frilled uniform that she was a chambermaid, just like her companion. The girls could have been twins, they were so similar. Both had red hair and fair skin and blue, sightless eyes. When she had cleaned off the plate she turned and went back to the man, dropping all the tray's contents into the steaming water. Like her companions, she moved without hesitation, not missing a step. Then she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

'Come on, let's take a rest," she said.

The other girl smiled obligingly, sitting down opposite her friend. She said, "Anything to eat, Freen?

I'm hungry."

The man looked up from his washing, considering the foods hanging from the walls. "I've been curing some sausages. They're probably ready, if you'd like to try a bit."

The girls eagerly agreed. One slipped off her shoes, making herself comfortable. Freen, who was obviously a cook, dried his hands on a nearby towel then pulled a stout ring of sausage off the scullery wall. Quickly he located a knife from his workbench and sat down at the table, proudly setting the sausage down before them. Gilwyn took a step closer, delighted by not being seen. Because they were blind they didn't gawk at his deformities. He was like a ghost to them, and he loved the anonymity.

Perhaps he would come here again, he considered. Perhaps he belonged here with the blind.

flooded with light, and Gilwyn had to squint against the brightness. He realized suddenly that it wasn't torchlight he was seeing this time. This was sunlight, pure and white, and it streamed in from the roof of the chamber through an elaborate glass ceiling, a gigantic web of windows and panes arranged to catch the traveling sun. The chamber was alive with plants and blooming flowers, colors and varieties Gilwyn had never seen. The strong perfume of the lilac and honeysuckle wafted over the threshold. Gilwyn slowed to an entranced crawl as he followed Jancis into the chamber. He had heard that the queen had a private conservatory, but he had never imagined one so vast and lovely. The expense alone was staggering. As he crossed into the chamber, feeling the warm sun on his face, he glimpsed Jancis near a stand of rose bushes, smiling as she blindly admired their red blooms. Her hand moved over them smoothly, feeling their petals and nimbly avoiding their thorns. Nearby was a bench strewn with gloves and an old pair of shears, while beside the bench sat a bucket, filled with freshly cut flowers. Jancis located the roses she wanted to cut, then felt around for the gloves and shears and went to work, humming happily to herself in the peace of the conservatory.

Gilwyn slipped soundlessly into the chamber. Dazzled by the light, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He looked up and noticed great shades on all sides of the conservatory, huge sheets of white canvas that could be pulled across the glass ceiling to block out the sun—or unwanted eyes. Queen Cassandra's legendary shyness was once again evident, but because the shades were open he didn't expect to see the queen here now. He had hoped to find the dark-haired girl, but Jancis was alone in the chamber, and Gilwyn knew he was out of time. He had to act now, before the king arrived.

Moving quickly, he dropped behind a stand of fruit trees and dug the note out of his pocket. The little roll of paper was perfect for Teku's small hand. The monkey spied the paper inquisitively.

'Here," Gilwyn whispered, holding it out for his friend.

Teku obediently wrapped her hairy fingers around the note.

'Now, bring it to her," said Gilwyn. He stepped out from behind the squat trees and pointed at Jancis, still humming and 'Yes, and get that filth out of your mind," said Jancis sharply. "Freen, the king might want something to eat or drink while he's here. Be ready, all right?"

'I'll be here," said Freen. Then he laughed, adding, "Where else would I be?"

The woman Jancis said good-bye, then turned and walked off. Gilwyn panicked. He knew he needed to reach her, for only she could lead him to the dark-haired girl. But King Akeela was coming; there wasn't time to waste. Carefully he followed Jancis out of the scullery, trying to match her footsteps so not to make a sound. The others around the table returned to their conversation. Gilwyn caught a curious snippet of it as he left the room.

'

'course he reads to her," Freen was saying. "What else would he do with a crone like Cassandra?"

Gilwyn ignored the comment, following Jancis as closely as he could, dodging behind furniture and open doors. The deeper they went into Lionkeep, the more beautiful and elaborate the place became.

There were still no windows but the hall was effusive with light, brightened by candles in ornate candelabras and iron sconces clasping smoky torches. Brocaded tapestries covered the walls, and soon the stone floor gave way to thick, crimson carpet that smothered the sounds of Gilwyn's footsteps. A wide archway beckoned up ahead, revealing a royal-sized chamber beyond. Gilwyn knew he was leaving the servants' area and entering the queen's own. Jancis continued on through the archway, into a round room with a high, domed ceiling where suits of armor and royal crests decorated the walls. But she didn't pause to regard them, continuing instead through the huge room into another, equally elaborate hallway, much narrower than the first. Gilwyn ducked behind one of the armored displays, trying to remember the way he'd come. The wing was vast indeed, and with King Akeela coming he had no time to waste. If he lost his way, he'd certainly be discovered. So he spied Jancis from behind the empty armor, and when he saw her round a corner he followed her once again, hoping she would soon lead him to the dark-haired girl.

But she did not. Instead, she passed through another arch and entered a room that took Gilwyn's breath away. It was pruning her roses. Teku took her master's meaning at once. Without a sound she slipped down from Gilwyn's shoulder and bounded toward the unsuspecting woman. Gilwyn braced himself. Jancis might scream when Teku touched her, or run with fear. But Teku was a very gentle creature, and when she reached Jancis she sat and stared up at her for a moment, considering the best way to get her attention. Finally, the monkey let out a small cry.

'What…?" Jancis started at the sound, turning her head in confusion. Having gotten her attention, Teku reached out with her free hand and gave Jancis' skirt a tiny tug. Jancis shrieked. She dropped the shears, barely missing Teku, and pulled the work gloves off in a panic. Teku continued chattering, trying to tell Jancis of her presence.

'What is that?" Jancis cried. "Get away!" Gilwyn was aghast. He wanted to shout at Jancis, to tell her not to be afraid.

Just take the blasted note!

Teku, seeing Jancis' panic, quickly took another tact. She put the note in her mouth, jumped onto Jancis' leg, and quickly scrambled up onto her shoulder. Now Jancis was frantic. Her arms flailed, trying vainly to dislodge the unknown creature, but Teku held tight. Like a well-trained acrobat, the monkey wrapped her tail around Jancis arm, then stretched out to force the note into Jancis' hand. When Jancis realized what was happening, she stopped fighting. Her fingers quickly felt the paper in her hands. Teku leapt quickly off her arm and darted across the conservatory back to Gilwyn.

'What's this?" said Jancis. Slowly she unrolled the note. And although she could not read it, she seemed to know what she was holding—and what had attacked her. "A monkey."

Gilwyn's jaw dropped. Fearing he'd somehow been discovered, he began backing out of the chamber.

'Is someone there?" Jancis queried. "Please come out. Don't be afraid."

But Gilwyn was afraid, so afraid that he bolted out of the conservatory without looking back. Teku clung to his shoulder as he maneuvered out of the conservatory, through the carpeted hallway, back past the ornate domed room, and finally toward the scullery where Freen and the two chambermaids were finishing up. There he stopped, panting, just out of earshot of the trio. Finally, when they all went back to work, he slid out of the scullery and through the forbidden doorway, back into the freedom of the abandoned garden.

His heart galloping, he struggled to catch his breath. Teku teetered on his shoulder, dazed from the mad dash to escape. The sunlight struck Gilwyn's face; he laughed when he felt its touch.

'I did it!" he exclaimed.

Teku tugged his ear in annoyance.

'Oh, sorry," Gilwyn corrected. " We did it."

He leaned against the wall of the keep, a huge smile on his face. Now that his note was delivered, the dark-haired girl would read it. She would know to meet him here tomorrow night. At last, he would see her again. An odd feeling of pride stirred in him.

'I've got things to do," he said absently. If he were to meet her, he would need a bath. And clean clothes. "And a gift," he told himself. She was a lady; he couldn't meet her empty-handed.

'Teku, we have to go into town," he told his companion. His eyes narrowed in thought. "And I have to think of something I can sell." v^-assandra had just finished her midday meal and was relaxing with a book when Jancis breezed into her chamber. The look on her friend's face startled Cassandra. She lowered her book into her lap. Jancis seemed out of breath. Her skin was pale and her movements were clumsy as she entered the room. "Cass?" she probed. "Are you in here?" "Jancis?" Cassandra studied her friend. "What's the matter?" Jancis drifted closer to Cassandra's chair. "I don't know. Maybe nothing.

Maybe good news." She shook her head. "Something strange just happened to me."

note was very brief and she read it in moments. But it wasn't the contents of the note that caught her breath. Rather, it was the signature. Cassandra turned and collapsed into the chair.

'It's from him," she said. She hardly believed her own voice. "It's his signature."

'Is it?" asked Jancis incredulously. "What's it say?"

'Your adoring servant…"

'What?"

'That's how he signed it—Tour adoring servant.' Just like last time." Cassandra's mind skipped back through the years, recalling another note she had received, way back before she was immortal. She had never forgotten that first note from Lukien, nor the way he had signed it and all the notes thereafter.

'He saw us in the garden the other night," said Cassandra. "The note says so. He wants to meet me there tomorrow night."

'The garden? How's that possible? How could he have possibly seen us?" Jancis pried the note from Cassandra's hand, frowning because she couldn't read it for herself. "It's incredible. Why would he risk coming back?"

'I don't know. Maybe that's why he didn't use my name." Cassandra smiled forlornly. "He called me his'dark-haired beauty.' " She looked up at her friend. "He's come back for me, Jan. He wants to see me again."

'But you can't go," said Jancis.

'Tomorrow night," said Cassandra dreamily. "After all these years."

'Cass, don't even think it. You'll die if he looks at you!" Beneath her blouse, Cassandra felt the warm glow of the amulet. Its immutable power pulsed against her skin. She put her hand to her chest, feeling the Eye of God under the fabric. It had kept her alive for sixteen years—but it had also kept her prisoner.

She wanted desperately to see Lukien again.

'We don't even know there's really a curse," she reasoned. "We've never tested it."

'Of course we've never tested it! If we did you'd die." "I don't care," snapped Cassandra. She leapt from the chair, wanting to tear the amulet from around her neck. Around her 'What?" Cassandra asked, alarmed. She got out of her chair. "Are you all right?"

'Yes, I'm fine. I… I just had the oddest experience."

'Jancis, you're not making sense," said Cassandra. She went to her friend and made to guide her to the vacant chair, then noticed the roll of paper in her hand. "What's that?"

Jancis began to laugh. "That's what the monkey gave me!"

'Monkey? Jan, you'd better sit down…"

'It's a note, Cass." Jancis put the paper into Cassandra's hand. "I was in the conservatory cutting flowers. There was a monkey—at least I think it was a monkey. It gave me this paper."

Cassandra was hardly listening. "What would a monkey be doing in the conservatory?" she asked, guiding Jancis toward the chair.

Jancis wouldn't sit down. "No, Cass, listen to me. A monkey. Who else has a monkey but that old librarian, Figgis? And who would have Figgis send you a note?"

It sounded like babble to Cassandra. Then, horribly, she understood. She looked down at the note.

Her hand began to tremble.

'No," she whispered. "That's not possible…"

'Read it, Cass," Jancis urged.

'No…"

'Read it!"

Cassandra couldn't read it. She couldn't believe what Jancis was suggesting. But suddenly it all made sense. If Lukien was going to write to her, he would need to deliver the note secretly. And only Figgis knew Lukien well enough to risk himself. It had been years since Cassandra had seen Figgis, but she remembered the little monkey he always had with him. Could that creature still be alive?

'Why give it to you?" Cassandra wondered. "Why not just send me the note?"

'I don't know," Jancis confessed. Her smile suddenly melted with concern. "Cass, do you think… I mean, could it be?"

To find out, Cassandra had to read the note. She paused, staring at it, then took a deep breath and unrolled the paper. The rose the walls of her splendid prison—beautiful, unyielding stone without a single window, without a single shaft of sunlight.

'Cass, don't be mad," said Jancis. "You can't risk it."

Cassandra closed her eyes, considering her choices.

To see Lukien again, or live forever as Akeela's prisoner.

She made up her mind in an instant.

A _t night, the streets of Koth were no place for a crippled boy. They were crowded and dirty and dangerous, and they had been that way since the early days of Akeela's reign, when the king had first hidden himself from his people. In the sixteen years following Akeela's madness, all manner of thieves began to stalk the streets of Koth, sure that the Ghost of Lionkeep would do nothing to stop them.

Commerce continued as it always had, choking the city's avenues and spilling over its sidewalks, and travelers still came from miles around to marvel at Koth. In many ways Koth was the center of the world.

She had decayed during Akeela's reign, but she had also prospered. Money poured into her, but it wasn't money from Akeela's treasury. It was the silver and gold of businessmen, opportunists who saw the diversity of Koth as a well to be drained dry. So they had come, unabated, and Akeela's great library became both a beacon and a curse. For every scholar it beckoned, it brought one more thief into Koth's streets. For every boy or girl it freed from ignorance, it lost one to the mills and pits of industry.

But not Gilwyn.

Tonight, Gilwyn was uncommonly happy. He had delivered his note to the dark-haired girl and his hopes were high—too high to notice the darkness creeping through the streets. Instead of returning to the library to help Figgis as he'd promised, he and Teku had made only a quick detour at home, stopping just long enough for Gilwyn to retrieve his cane, the only item of value he had to sell. It had been a good cane, valuable enough to earn him eight copper sovereigns from a pawnbroker on Bleak Street. Because his new shoe was working so well, the cane had been an obvious choice for sale. Despite his proximity to the riches of Lionkeep, Gilwyn owned very little, and the death of his mother had only added to his poverty. The library was rich with valuable manuscripts, of course, but Gilwyn could never consider selling one of them. In the end, only his cane could fetch him some money, and not very much at that.

Eight coppers were a pittance, but to Gilwyn they were a fortune. They were enough to buy him a gift for his dark-haired mystery girl. As he walked through a grim avenue, he admired the ring he had bought her.

It was bronze, very pretty, and had been very affordable. The shopkeeper had promised him that his

"lady friend" would adore it.

Absorbed with the ring and his upcoming rendezvous, Gilwyn hardly noticed his surroundings. He had left his horse Tempest and his wagon on the far side of Capital Street hours ago, venturing on foot toward the west side of town in search of a pawnbroker. That had been the easy part, but finding a suitable ring for his eight sovereigns had proved far more difficult. It had taken hours, and now it was well past dusk. The moon was hidden behind glowing clouds. Shadows from the buildings grew tall in the streets, darkening every alleyway, and the commerce had slowed as the vendors cleared the sidewalks.

Gilwyn could hear laughter from the distant taverns, where the businessmen retired from their long days of dealing. He paused in the street to listen. Once, Koth had been full of diplomats and civil servants.

According to Figgis, they had been elegant days, but now only the bankers remained to share the streets with the criminals. The chancelleries were gone; barracks and armories had risen in their place. If Gilwyn went into the taverns, he knew he would find Lürian soldiers; they were everywhere in the city now. He frowned, glancing around at his surroundings. Koth was still beautiful, but how much more lovely had it been back then? Why, he wondered, had Akeela shunned his city?

There were no answers from the candlelit windows. And suddenly Gilwyn forgot his many questions.

He realized he had been walking without thinking, so enamored with his present for the girl that he had lost his way. The brick buildings and tangled avenues became alike in the gloom. A chill passed through him. Glancing toward the sky, he noticed the clouds begin to thicken.

'Oh, great," he sighed. He hadn't expected rain. Teku shared his bleak assessment, staring at the gloomy sky. The monkey wrapped her tail protectively around his neck. "Don't worry," he told her. "I know where we are."

But after two more blocks, Gilwyn admitted he was lost. The darkness and buildings conspired to confuse him. He was in a narrow avenue of cobblestones, bordered on both sides by rows of empty shops that had closed for the night. Gilwyn heard the far-off laughter from the taverns and the occasional clip-clop of a horse, but he could see no one in the street, and he suddenly cursed himself for blundering so far afield. It was getting late. He hadn't even told Figgis where he was going. The old man would be very cross when he got home. But where was home, exactly? Engulfed as he was by Koth's tall buildings, he couldn't even see Library Hill.

A cool drizzle began to fall. Gilwyn slid the ring he'd purchased into his pocket. His foot ached in its special shoe, crying for rest. He was limping again, because he had taxed himself and not built up the muscles the way Figgis had ordered. Teku chattered nervously in his ear, sensing his fear. Gilwyn stroked her head to calm her.

'It's all right," he said. "We'll find someone and ask for directions."

Behind him he heard the noise of the taverns, deciding quickly not to ask there for help. They would take one look at his strange shoe and twisted hand, and they would laugh, he was certain. He had endured the laughter of drunks many times.

'Better to be lost," he muttered, and continued down the avenue. The avenue quickly narrowed, turning into a filthy alley, and Gilwyn was soon sorry he hadn't taken his chances in a tavern.

Apprehension rose in his stomach as he spied the abandoned buildings. He was thoroughly lost and decided to turn back. Yet as he turned he heard footfalls behind him. Very faint, they bounced off the alley's grimy walls, defying direction. Gilwyn ance Gilwyn knew running was out of the question. He was cornered.

'What do you want?" he asked. "I don't have any money."

'No money?" said the blond man. "Ah, now that's a lie. We saw you dealing with that jeweler. What'd you get yourself?"

'None of your blasted business." Gilwyn squared his shoulders, trying to look bigger. "And if you so much as touch me I'll let out the loudest scream you've ever heard."

The man looked at his companion. "Uh-oh, Jorry, we'd better do as he says. No one ever screams here in the alleys."

Dark-haired Jorry, the larger of the two, leveled his eyes toward Gilwyn's pockets. "Give it here," he said in a voice thick with consumption.

'I don't have anything." Gilwyn held up his empty hands. The two took notice of his clubbed appendage and smirked.

'Whatever it is you're hiding, I don't think you want to fight us for it," laughed Jorry. "So be a good boy and don't make us hurt you."

Teku squealed with anger, baring her sharp fangs. Jorry stopped mid-step. "Shut that beast up or I'll skin it alive," he hissed. Gilwyn made a fist with his good hand.

'You touch her and…"

Jorry drew a dagger from beneath his filthy cloak. Moonlight and rain glinted on its blade. Gilwyn felt his knees begin to buckle.

'Leave me alone," he said. "Or you'll face the wrath of the king!"

'The king?" The little blond man feigned surprise. "Oh, so you're the king's man, eh? That's good.

Then you should spill a lot of gold when we shake you upside-down."

They both edged closer, Jorry's pitted dagger glinting dangerously. Gilwyn fell against the grimy wall, felt its wet surface seep though his shirt. Desperate to appease the thieves, he reached into his pocket.

'Wait!" he cried, fumbling for the ring. "I'll give it to you."

But before he could find the bauble a hand shot out and seized his wrist. Gilwyn jumped, thinking another thug was behind him, but when he looked down all he saw was the hand peered behind him through the darkness and fog. Suddenly he wished he had his cane with him, or any other weapon.

Teku's tail coiled harder around his neck.

'Don't be afraid," said Gilwyn, as much to himself as the monkey. The footfalls grew louder, then suddenly stopped. Gilwyn struggled to see through the mist. Two figures stood motionless in the fog.

Very carefully Gilwyn turned and continued down the ever-darkening street. To his great dismay, the footfalls followed him.

'Teku," he whispered, "we're in trouble."

Up ahead the alley terminated in a brick wall. Gilwyn searched the wall for a way out, any little crevice he could slip through for escape. He limped through the mist toward the terminus, his bad foot throbbing with effort. Behind him the footfalls quickened. His mind groped for a plan. He scanned the end of the alley, but only the smallest sliver of space existed between the broken buildings, barely enough for Teku to get through. There was no chance for Gilwyn to squeeze past, so he took a deep breath and turned to face the approaching footsteps.

There was no laughter from the taverns, no sound of horse hooves on the pavement. There was only the dreadful sound of boots. Gilwyn fixed his gaze on the alleyway, straining to see through the mist. The rain made him shiver. Teku shook with anticipation. Together they watched as the two figures emerged, the moonlight slowly defining them. Both were raggedly dressed, with long coats that hung in tatters around their bent frames. Their shoddy boots scraped the paving stones as they shuffled forward, their faces all but hidden in shadows. Gilwyn backed against the wall. The men continued forward, then paused when they realized he was trapped. The smaller of the two, a man with filthy blond hair, smiled through broken teeth.

'You lost, boy?"

Gilwyn shook his head. "No. I'm… on my way home."

'Oh yes, you should get home," said the other man. He was dark-haired and lanky, most of his face obscured by a scraggly beard. "It's dangerous this time of night."

They both stalked closer. A shaft of moonlight lit their features, revealing a sickening pall. But despite their gaunt appear emerging from the wall. He sputtered, horror-stricken, as the hand held him firm. It was a small hand, hardly bigger than a child's. Jorry and his companion gaped at it, thunderstruck. The dagger in Jorry's hand went limp.

'What is that?" croaked the smaller thief. Like Jorry, he stared at the appendage coming from the wall. The hand became an arm, and soon a whole shoulder emerged from the shifting bricks. Gilwyn pulled free just as a face appeared in the masonry. A woman's face, with a devilish smile and a cascade of white hair around her elfin ears. He stumbled back, sure that a ghost was coming from the wall, but the wall was hardly there anymore, replaced by a dazzling frenzy of color. Out of the rainbow stepped the woman. She wore a patchwork coat that swirled around her as if alive, shifting with the colors of the brick and misty rain. As the wall grew solid again, she looked up at Gilwyn with burning, coal-black eyes.

'Hello," she said smiling. She was remarkably tiny. An amulet hung from a chain around her neck, barely peeking through her amazing coat. When she turned toward the thieves, her smile vanished in an instant. "What is this?" she asked, staring at Jor-ry's dagger. "Violence?"

Jorry tightened his grip on the knife. He sputtered, "What are you?"

The little woman sidled up to Gilwyn and put her arm around him. "I'm a friend of the boy. That's all you need to know."

The blond man's face twisted with rage. "That's just fine, midget. Then you can bleed together."

'Ah ah, not so fast," giggled the woman. Her strange amulet glowed furiously. "Look behind you."

Both Gilwyn and the thieves gazed down the alley. Suddenly there was no way out. Another wall had appeared, as solid as the three that had always been there. And blocking the alley, as wide and tall as the newly formed wall, stood an immense man with stooped shoulders and a shining bald head.

Expressionless eyes hung atop his overbite, and the hair on his bulging, naked forearms was as coarse as a wire brush. He didn't move and he didn't speak. He merely watched the thieves, waiting like a sentry in the dark alley.

'See my friend?" asked the woman. She had taken her arm from around Gilwyn's waist and now leaned back casually against the wall. "It's one thing to pick on a crippled boy. Why not try your blade on Trog, Jorry?"

'How do you know my name?" Jorry insisted.

The tiny woman shrugged. "Reading the mind of a simpleton is easy." Then she looked at the blond man. "You are Harl," she said. "And right now you're wondering how you're going to escape. You don't even mind leaving Jorry behind to deal with us, just so long as you get away."

'Sorcery," spat the man called Harl. "Get out of my head, you little bitch!"

'Plenty of room up there for everyone," said the woman. "You too, Jorry. Your skull is as empty as Harl's." Again she shrugged. "Or as full as a chamber pot. Whichever."

The answer enraged Jorry, who whirled to face the giant at the end of the alley. He tossed his knife from hand to hand, squaring off with the silent monster. "All right, you ugly bastard, come on!"

Gilwyn inched back. The little woman held her ground, her inscrutable smile growing.

'Trog doesn't talk, Jorry," she said. "And he's already heard every insult in the world. If you want to hurt him, do it with your knife."

Jorry stalked forward, swishing his blade and moving like a sidewinder toward his adversary. Breath rasped from the giant's slack jaw. His two eyes watched Jorry with dull regard, and for a moment Gilwyn thought the quick thief would best the giant. But as Jorry swiped with the blade, the giant's hand came up in a blur, effortlessly catching Jorry's. There was a bone-crushing pop as the massive forearm flexed, forcing Jorry's hand open and shattering his wrist. The mute monster lifted his quarry off the ground, barely acknowledging him as Jorry kicked and screamed in pain. The giant held him at arm's length, looking toward the tiny woman for guidance.

'Very good, Trog," said his mistress. "Let him go now."

The order given, Trog discarded Jorry by flinging him aside. Jorry tumbled, collided with the wall, then sat up whimpering and cradling his broken arm. Trog lumbered forward, now eyeing Harl.

'Don't you touch me!" cried the thief. "I swear, I'll kill you!"

If Trog heard the threat, he ignored it. His hand shot out and seized Marl's throat, his fingers circling like ropes around his windpipe. The thief jerked as Trog lifted him to his toes. Karl's hands working uselessly to pry off the iron grip. As he choked for air, the little woman studied him pitifully.

'You see where violence gets you?" she sighed.

Harl's eyes bulged. "Please…"

'Please what? Please let you go? Please release you so you can rob some other poor soul? Is that what you want me to do?" She looked over at Jorry, still crumpled in pain. "Is that what I should do, Jorry?"

Jorry said nothing, grimacing against the agony of his broken arm. Gilwyn could see bones breaking through the skin. His right shoulder hung at an odd angle, dislocated.

'Answer me, you frog of a man," commanded the woman. Her strange amulet glowed an angry red.

"Speak for your friend here, or Trog will snap his neck."

Harl let out an anguished cry. The little woman tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?"

'Let us go," Jorry pleaded. He struggled to his feet. "We wouldn't have harmed the boy."

'Why don't I believe that?"

'Please!" gurgled Harl. Trog kept his fist around the man's throat, his face emotionless.

'Don't beg," said the woman. "Give me your word that you'll harm no one else, and you may go free."

'Yes!" gasped Harl. His face had turned apple red.

The tiny woman held up a finger. "Wait. Before you make your promise, I want to show you something." She turned to Gilwyn, waving him closer. "Gilwyn, come and stand near me."

Gilwyn hesitated.

'I won't hurt you," said the woman.

Her gentle tone encouraged Gilwyn's trust. Teku slid down from his shoulder to rest in the crux of his arm. When he was safely beside her, the woman took a deep breath, closed her eyes in concentration, and spoke in a toneless whisper. They were words Gilwyn had never heard before, incomprehensible, musical words. And when she opened her eyes the fog in the alley began to shift. The wall her magic had erected disappeared, and it its place rose up two twisting pillars of mist. Jorry staggered back as the pillars took form. Harl's already bulging eyes popped. And Gilwyn stood in fixated horror, watching as the mists shaped themselves into ghostlike figures. They were human and inhuman, beautiful and terrifying, and their faces shifting from angelic to demonic like the swinging of a pendulum. They had no feet; gusts of fog carried them forward. Their arms floated beside them, ending in insubstantial fingers. As they drifted closer they outstretched their ghostly hands, one caressing Jorry, the other engulfing Harl.

Both thieves screamed at the ghastly touch.

'Trog, release him," said the woman.

Trog's fist opened, letting Harl crash to the ground. The spirit-thing still clung to him. He and Jorry batted at the creatures, their arms sailing uselessly through empty air.

'Jorry and Harl, these are your Akari," said the woman. "I have summoned them for you. They will watch you always. You will never be rid of them."

'Get it off!"

'Jorry, are you listening to me? Because it's very important. These spirits are part of you now. They will go with you everywhere, see everything that you do."

The little woman stepped toward them, raising her hands to heaven. Instantly, the ghosts dissipated.

Jorry and Harl looked at her, their faces drawn with shock.

'They have not gone," she told them. "They are bound to you. You cannot see them, but I assure you they are here now."

'Great Fate," whimpered Jorry.

'Remember our bargain," continued the woman. "If you ever threaten another of my children, the Akari will return. Now…" She turned and gestured toward the open alley. "Go and trouble us no more."

The thieves looked about in terror. Trog still towered over them, but the ghosts were nowhere to be seen.

'Go!" barked the woman. The order snapped the men from their stupor. They staggered to their feet and hurried out of the alley, looking back in fright until they disappeared into the rainy night.

For a long moment Gilwyn couldn't speak. Fear and fascination held him stiff. He stared down the alley, his arm still around Teku. The woman went to her giant companion and touched his arm.

Surprisingly, she asked if he was all right. The giant nodded but did not speak.

'How'd you do that?" Gilwyn finally asked. "What were those… things?"

The lady smiled. "Always full of questions."

Gilwyn inched toward her, studying her peculiar coat and impish face. The glow of her amulet dimmed to a dusky crimson; the patches of her coat stopped swirling.

'Who are you?" Gilwyn asked.

'Friends," replied the woman. "Do not fear us, Gilwyn."

'How do you know my name?"

The evasive smile reappeared. "You are Gilwyn Toms, from the library."

'But you've never been to the library," said Gilwyn. "Believe me, I'd remember you." He glanced between the midget woman and her mute companion. Raindrops dripped into the giant's eyes, but he hardly blinked.

'We travel, we hear things," said the woman. "We have heard of you, Gilwyn Toms."

'But how? Who are you?"

The woman looked up into the sky. A strong breeze blew her milky hair. "It's late. The storm is just starting. You should get home before the worst of it."

The strange prediction rattled Gilwyn. "You know how long it's going to rain?"

'Questions, questions…"

'Tell me who you are," said Gilwyn. He studied her, then whispered, "Are you a sorceress?"

The woman's black eyes widened, "Oooh, now there's a word you shouldn't use, not in Koth these days. Protect yourself, young Gilwyn. Don't ask so many questions. And forget what you saw here tonight. Just accept our help and be on your way."

'Forget? How can I forget any of this? I—"

'Shhh," bid the woman. "Too much talk. Go to your horse and get home."

'Oh, no. My horse!" In all the commotion, Gilwyn had forgotten he was lost. "I don't know where he is."

The woman reached up and touched Gilwyn's face. She said softly, "Your horse?"

'Yes," said Gilwyn. He blinked, feeling sleepy, but when she removed her hand the dullness passed.

'Where is your horse, Gilwyn?"

Gilwyn thought for a moment, and suddenly everything was obvious. The terrain of Koth flashed through his mind, clear as daylight.

'Near Capital Street," he said. He pointed east. "That way."

The woman smiled. "Then you should go that way."

Gilwyn nodded. "Yes." A great relief washed over him. "Yes, I need to get home. But those creatures…"

'They are Akari," the woman corrected. "Spirits from a world beyond this one. Now be on your way."

Still Gilwyn wouldn't go. "Spirits? What kind of spirits? And you said they'd stay with those men.

How's that possible?"

'Gilwyn, because you are troubled I will tell you this—the spirits will not harm those men. I lied because I wanted to frighten them. But there's no reason for them to be afraid of the Akari, and neither should you be. And more than that I won't say." She took her bald companion's hand and started off down the alley, sparing Gilwyn one last grin. "Get home, young Gilwyn. Before the storm gets worse."

Then they were gone, swallowed up by the gloom. Gilwyn watched them as long as he could, staring at the alley for long minutes after they were gone. The rain had thickened. His clothes were drenched and Teku's fur had flattened against her skin, yet all he could do was stare. Something remarkable had happened tonight, and he couldn't begin to explain it. He thought of asking Figgis when he got home, but quickly remembered how the strange little woman had asked for his silence. For Before Gilwyn could try to leave, Figgis went to the doorway to block his way.

'Gilwyn, I can't have you running off without telling me where you're going. I spent the whole afternoon expecting you back here. I had to deal with all the work myself. And when you didn't return by nightfall…"

'I'm sorry," said Gilwyn. The worry in Figgis' eyes shamed him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to confess the reason for his trip into Koth. As much as he wanted to tell Figgis about the dark-haired girl, he knew the old man would murder him for skulking around Lionkeep. Gilwyn sighed and fell into Figgis'

chair, miserable and contrite. "I didn't mean for you to worry. I didn't think I'd be gone so long."

Figgis hovered over him. "What happened to you? Trouble?"

Gilwyn looked away. His strange experience in the alley was just another thing he couldn't confess.

"I'm fine," he said. "I just got caught in the rain." Then he laughed, adding, "I lost my way."

'In Koth? I could have told you that would happen. It's not a city for a boy, Gilwyn, especially not at night." Figgis brushed some clutter from his desk and sat down, smiling gently at Gilwyn. "Now, want to tell me what really happened?"

Gilwyn merely shook his head.

'Gilwyn, you've been acting odd lately. You've been ignoring your work, forgetting things…"

'I know, Figgis. I apologize."

'If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love."

Gilwyn looked up. "What?"

'Is that it, boy? Have you gotten yourself a sweetling?"

A rush of heat filled Gilwyn's face. "No," he said quickly. "No, I'm just… thinking a lot lately."

'Uh-huh."

'No, really."

The old man laughed. "You're sixteen now, Gilwyn. Old enough to be sweet on someone."

'I'm not!"

'And you're old enough to have some secrets," Figgis conceded. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." some reason, he intended to keep her secret. Finally, unable to endure the rain another moment, Teku tugged at his ear.

'All right," said Gilwyn. "We'll go."

As quickly as his sore foot would carry him he began his long trek toward Capital Street, toward the place where he knew, somehow, Tempest still awaited him. And as he walked a strange word kept popping into his mind, a word he knew only from fairy tales and children's songs. Despite the many distractions filling Koth's streets, the word would not leave him.

The word was Grimhold.

iNear midnight, Gilwyn finally returned to the library. He discovered a very cross Figgis waiting for him. Gilwyn had tried to avoid his mentor, but reaching his bedchamber meant passing the old man's study, and that's where he discovered Figgis. The old man had heard Gilwyn enter the hall and was drumming his fingers expectantly on his desk. There were bags under his eyes from staying up well past his bedtime. As soon as Gilwyn crossed the threshold, he barked, "Where have you been?"

Gilwyn didn't know how to answer. "I'm sorry, Figgis. I didn't mean to be gone so long."

'Do you know what time it is? It's been dark outside for hours!" He jabbed a thumb toward the room's tiny window. "I was worried sick about you!"

'I'm sorry," repeated Gilwyn. "I lost track of time. I had something important to do."

'What?" Figgis demanded. "What's so important that you had to leave me here fretting over you?"

Exhausted, he could only shrug. "I can't explain it."

Figgis rose from his chair. "Look at you. You're drenched!" He stared at Gilwyn, demanding an answer. "Tell me where you were."

'I went into the city," replied Gilwyn. "I told you, there was something I had to do."

'That's not an answer."

'Figgis, I'm tired…"

For some reason, Gilwyn feared he would cry. His foot was aching and Teku was half asleep on his shoulder, and all he could think of was his ordeal in the alley. He wanted desperately to talk to Figgis, to enlist the old man's help in winning the beautiful girl from Lionkeep, but he was afraid. Figgis was a good man. Sometimes, Gilwyn felt he didn't deserve him.

'Figgis, I want to keep my secret," he said. "For a little while longer, at least. All right?"

Figgis nodded. "All right." He got up and held out his hand for Gilwyn, who took it and let Figgis pull him to his feet. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow," said Figgis. "Go to sleep now, and we'll forget about it.

But I want your word that you'll tell me before going off on your own again. You may be sixteen, but I'm still master of the library."

'I will, Figgis, I promise." Gilwyn moved toward the door, relieved the conversation was over. But before he could say good night, the same strange word popped into his mind again. He hovered in the threshold. Figgis stopped fiddling with the papers on his desk.

'Gilwyn?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

Gilwyn shook his head. "No, I'm just thinking." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Figgis, do you know what Grimhold is?"

'Grimhold? Why are you asking about that?"

'I'm not sure," said Gilwyn. "I keep thinking about it for some reason. Do you know anything about it?"

The librarian shrugged. "Nothing that isn't known by everyone else. Grimhold's a myth. They say it's a place of monsters."

'Monsters." The word intrigued Gilwyn. "And sorcerers?"

'I suppose. The legend goes that the monsters of Grimhold are led by a witch. She steals children."

'Steals children? What for?"

'I'm no expert, Gilwyn," said Figgis. He seemed almost annoyed at the questions. "Grimhold is just a tale. A good story, nothing more."

'But there must be books about Grimhold, right? Somewhere in the library maybe?"

'Probably," said Figgis. He shooed Gilwyn away. "Now go to bed. It's late."

Gilwyn took a single step out of the room, then stopped again. "Do you think you could find me a book about Grimhold, Figgis?"

Figgis sighed. "Gilwyn, please. It's late and we've got work to do in the morning. I really can't have you wasting time daydreaming about Grimhold while I do all the heavy lifting around here."

'You're right, Figgis, I'm sorry," said Gilwyn. Then he smiled. "But you can find me some texts about Grimhold, can't you?"

'Great Fate, you're a pest sometimes! All right, I'll dig up something for you. But it might take me some time. Until then, try and lend a hand around here, will you? For old times' sake?"

Gilwyn bowed. "Promise. Thanks, Figgis. Good night."

'Good night!"

Satisfied, Gilwyn left the study and made his way to his little bed chamber. He put Teku into her unlocked cage, stripped off his wet clothes, and slipped lazily into his night shirt. Outside his window he could see the fractured light of the moon as he pulled the bedcovers over himself. The memory of the strange woman in the alley played through his mind, yet he was not afraid. Too exhausted for fear, he closed his eyes and dreamed of tomorrow, when he would meet the dark-haired girl at last.

the storm had come unexpectedly. The rain reminded her of that dewy morning when she had first given herself to the Bronze Knight. In her mind she could smell the apple orchard, the freshness of peat, and the moist spring mist. The thought brought a secretive smile to her lips. Until then she had supposed Lukien would be brutal as a lover, but he had been gentle with her. He'd had none of Akeela's clumsiness, either, and she adored him for it. And in their subsequent couplings he had learned to play her like a harp, so that her body made the most exquisite music.

And then Akeela had gone mad. And Lukien had been banished.

Cassandra opened her eyes in the darkness. As she listened to Akeela's voice, she heard the taint of insanity. He had aged. Unlike her, time had played its tricks on him. But he still had his childlike exuberance, and he still loved her, though his love was a sickness. She studied his voice as it climbed over the partition, listening to it rise and fall, imparting his words with melodrama. Surprisingly, she had never been able to hate Akeela. He had banished Lukien, Lüria's greatest hero, and he had blinded lands. He had neglected Koth to the point of ruin while squandering every drop of taxes on his elaborate library. In his paranoia he had crushed the chancelleries, and in doing so he had become a tyrant, imprisoning the long-dead Baron Glass and other good men and taking their wealth for his own. Baron Glass had languished for two years in Borior prison before being exiled to the Isle of Woe. Akeela had wanted him executed, but Cassandra's intercession had been enough to save the baron, consigning him instead to certain death among the savages of an island prison. He had died there, presumably, and Akeela had never spoken of him again, as though the memory of the baron was something to be expunged.

Yet for all his crimes, Cassandra still pitied Akeela. He was a fragile man, still a child in so many ways. As she listened she heard the love in his voice. Truly, he still thought she enjoyed his company.

And he still craved to be near her. He hadn't laid eyes on her in sixteen years, nor had he dared to touch her in the darkness, not since that first time. But the inference in his tone was always clear. He hungered for her like a starving man, and c.

ssandra sat alone in her bed, her mind full of images. The tolling of a distant clock absently spoke the midnight hour, but Cassandra was wide awake as she dreamed, consumed by better days. Darkness shrouded her bedchamber. Only the flicker of a candle behind a canvas partition invaded the gloom. On the other side of the partition sat Akeela, blinded by the heavy canvas yet still able to speak to her. His voice droned through the midnight silence as he read from a book of poetry. He had been ridiculously excited by the latest books from his library, and had been reading to her for hours now. Unable to face another of his dreadful performances on the eve of her meeting with Lukien, Cassandra had protested, feigning a headache. But Akeela had insisted. Like a child, he never gave her any peace. And he never seemed to tire, either, or to improve in his performance. He tried gamely to entertain her with poems and plays, but his skill was amateurish and his ebullience irritated Cassandra. Tonight, he was unbearable. His ceaseless voice tore through her like a nail, forcing her to daydream her way to freedom. Now, as Akeela worked his way through a particularly tedious sonnet, Cassandra was reminded of Lukien and the hours they had stolen together, long ago. Tomorrow she would see him again. And then, if the curse of her amulet truly existed, she would die.

A clap of thunder detonated above the tower, muffled by the thick walls of her chamber. Akeela had told her it was raining;

would never take another woman to satisfy his lust. He had told her many times that their marriage was sacred. To Cassandra, their marriage was a farce. Still, she admired Akeela's fortitude. His madness had given him a peculiar strength.

Could she be just as strong, she wondered? So far, the prospect of dying hadn't frightened her, yet by midnight tomorrow she might well be dead. Would it take long for human eyes to kill her? Would there be enough time to tell Lukien all she wanted to say? A few moments was all she wanted. That would be enough to look at him, to touch his face, to see the man he had become, and to tell him that she loved him still. In her sixteen years of isolation, she had learned that love was timeless. She smiled, struck by her own poetry. Lukien was a warrior with a poet's soul. She had unearthed the truth in him. Tomorrow, if she died, she would stand before the Fate, that great and mysterious entity that oversaw the world. She would be commanded to list her life's accomplishments, and she knew that she would put Lukien at the top of that list. Loving him had changed her life. He had been worth all the dismal aftermath.

Akeela cleared his throat unexpectedly. There was a long silence, and Cassandra could hear him turn his face toward her through the partition.

'Cassandra?" he asked. His voice was a bell, crystal clear and cutting. "Are you awake?" "Yes, Akeela, I'm awake." Another pause. "You haven't said anything in a while. I thought you had fallen asleep."

'No, Akeela."

There was a rustle as Akeela closed the book. "You are preoccupied tonight."

'No, I just didn't want to interrupt you," said Cassandra.

'You are preoccupied," Akeela repeated. Cassandra heard him lean back in his chair. His silhouette on the canvas seemed to slump. He was thinking, and that was always a bad thing. He could be very perceptive sometimes. Cassandra tried to mask her thoughts. When she did not reply, he asked her,

"What are you thinking about, Cassandra?"

'I'm sorry, Akeela, my mind was wandering," she confessed. "It's late, and I'm tired."

'Yes," Akeela drawled. "And how is your headache?"

There was a peculiar accent on the word headache that made Cassandra cringe. He could always tell when she was lying, even through the darkness.

'Better now," she replied. She watched his shadow through the fabric, lit by candlelight. He didn't stir, but sat as still as stone. His silence frightened her, and she cursed herself for being so stoic with him.

Now he was suspicious. "Keep reading," she urged. "You haven't finished the sonnet yet."

'Perhaps I shouldn't read you love poems. They make you pensive."

'No," laughed Cassandra. "I enjoy them."

'Why?"

The question hung in the air. Anything Cassandra said would be a lie, so she replied, "Because you read so well, and because it is good to hear your voice."

'No other reason?"

Cassandra frowned. She could tell he was baiting her. "Should there be another reason, Akeela?"

Akeela didn't answer. She watched his silhouette for movement, but he didn't flick a finger. She could tell he wanted to say something to her, to bring up the ugly accusation that was always on the tip of his tongue, waiting to fall off. Cassandra grew angry suddenly. Tonight, on the eve of her meeting with Lukien, the very night before her possible death, she decided to push him.

'Say something, Akeela."

Akeela's breathing quickened. "I know what you're thinking when you hear love poems, Cassandra."

'Do you? Tell me, then."

A great sigh came from behind the partition. "You're lonely. And that's my fault. I've failed you."

'What?"

Akeela rose from his chair and shook his head in despair. "It's true. You are alone because of me, because I've failed to find the other amulet."

Cassandra wanted to laugh. "No, Akeela…" "Don't spare my feelings. I know what you think of me.

You're right—I have failed you. I've left you to rot in this room all alone, without a husband to comfort you. I've done my best to keep you company, but it's not enough. You need me, Cassandra. All of me.

A voice in the darkness isn't good enough, not after so much time. What kind of husband is that?"

'Akeela, stop," said Cassandra. She sat up to give her voice emphasis. "I'm fine, really."

'You're not fine. You can't be. But you will be someday, Cassandra, I promise you." Akeela went to the partition and put his hand up to the fabric. His ghostly silhouette lingered there, unable to reach her. "I love you, Cassandra."

The words were terrible. Such beautiful words, warped by time and obsession.

'I know," said Cassandra softly. She closed her eyes, and again thought of Lukien.

'We will be together again, I swear it." Akeela's voice was brittle. "I'll find the other Eye, no matter what it takes."

'Yes, Akeela. All right."

'And then we can be together forever."

'Yes, Akeela. Forever."

Forever. It didn't matter anymore to Cassandra. She would be dead long before then.

G Tilwyn spent the entire day at the library with Figgis, cataloging and shelving books and helping the scholars from Marn locate history texts. He worked diligently, doing his best to prove his industry to Figgis, who soon forgot the events of the previous night. The day was sunny and warm and the library was crowded with visitors. A large group of local farm children had come for Figgis' weakly reading class, as well as a contingent of educators from Reec who had arrived to study the library's elaborate cataloging system, a mathematical wonder Figgis himself had devised. Gilwyn was in good spirits as he worked, and he had mostly forgotten about his strange encounter in the alley. Too busy to give it much thought, he instead occupied himself with work and anticipating his upcoming rendezvous. Tonight, if all went well, he would finally see the dark-haired girl again.

By dusk, the flow of visitors finally ebbed, and Gilwyn and Figgis took a well-earned rest. Though the library remained open, they were no longer available to help patrons. They ate their evening meal together in the little kitchen off the library's main living quarters, feasting on a grand supper of chicken and biscuits that Mistress Delia, their housekeeper, had cooked. Mistress Delia was a stoic woman who had lost her husband years ago in the wars with Reec. She had come into Figgis' employ long before Gilwyn had arrived, when the library had first opened its doors. She was sweet to Gilwyn and feisty with Figgis, and the pounded in his temples. He looked out the window and knew that he needed to hurry, so he said good-bye to Teku in her cage and left his bedchamber, heading for Lionkeep and its long-abandoned garden.

three shared most of the work of the vast place, though sometimes Figgis requested help from the tradesmen of Lionkeep, as when the roof was leaking or some other repair needed doing. Like Figgis, Mistress Delia was paid by Akeela himself; the king never let them want for anything. She was comfortable in the library. Its solitude complemented her quiet nature.

After their supper, Figgis invited Gilwyn to play cards. It was a pleasant night, and Figgis suggested they play on the balcony of the main reading chamber, maybe even sip some brandy. Gilwyn knew it was Figgis' way of mending fences, for the old man had apologized to him more than once for yelling at him the night before. Figgis' sincerity made it all the more difficult for Gilwyn to decline his invitation. Since he didn't have an excuse handy, he simply told Figgis that he would rather do it some other time, suggesting that the day's labor had wearied him. Not surprisingly, Figgis saw through his pretense easily, but the old man didn't press him. He merely smiled, saying that they could play cards any time.

Once he left Figgis, Gilwyn hurried to his bed chamber to dress for his meeting. He didn't own a lot of clothes, but he had one nice shirt that he saved for special occasions. It had a stiff collar and a bright crimson pattern, and had been bought for him by Figgis so that he'd look good when meeting dignitaries.

Gilwyn hardly ever wore the shirt, but it was perfect for his meeting with the girl. After he dressed he ran a comb through his hair, checking himself in a tiny rectangle of mirror, one that had belonged to his dead mother. As he stared at his reflection, he was sure his mother would be proud of him. She would never have approved of his skulking around Lionkeep, but she had always hoped he would find a girl for himself someday, perhaps even marry.

'This might be the one," he told himself, smiling. Outside his window, the night was falling quickly. He smoothed down his shirt, put the ring he had purchased into his pocket, and took a deep breath. Tonight, he was taking a giant step toward manhood, a step he had always thought his crippled foot would prevent. Now, with the special shoe he wore, he could take man-sized strides. A nervous flutter turned in his stomach; excitement With lands' help, Cassandra left her chambers shortly after mealtime, once Freen the cook had vacated the kitchen and Megal and Ruthanna had stopped working for the night. According to Jancis, the two young housekeepers had gone for a walk to enjoy the splendid evening. It was the kind of statement that could still surprise Cassandra, even after years of experiencing the extraordinary abilities of the blind. Within an hour, her private wing had fallen silent and Jancis came into Cassandra's bedchamber to report that everyone had gone off, leaving a clear run to the scullery and thus, the forgotten garden. Cassandra steeled herself. Now that darkness had come, Lukien was very near. With luck he was already safely in the garden, waiting for her. Cassandra let Jancis lead her as far as the scullery, then ordered her friend to turn around and forget everything she had done and heard.

'Admit nothing," she ordered Jancis. They were in a darkened corner near the scullery, close to the rusted doors that led outside. The rest of the blind servants were nowhere to be seen, but Cassandra held her voice to a whisper. There was a tightness in her chest; she couldn't tell if it was fear or desire.

Jancis was gray. Her old friend let a tear fall from her eyes. Cassandra smiled and brushed it away. "It's what I want, Jan," she said gently. "You know I can't live like this anymore."

Jancis nodded, barely able to speak. "I know. But if you die…"

'If I die, then it will have been worth it to see Lukien again. Remember that, Jancis. No matter what happens to me."

'I should come with you," said Jancis. "Maybe I could help you."

'No," said Cassandra. They had been through all this already.

'But if your sickness returns…"

'Jancis, stop. There's nothing for you to do. Now I have to go.

'Hello."

Cassandra jumped at the intrusion. She whirled toward the castle and saw a figure in the feeble light.

When she saw it wasn't Lukien, her hoped crashed. And her fear spiked.

'Great Fate," she gasped. "You're not…"

She turned her face away, wanting to bolt. But suddenly she realized there was nowhere to run. The figure was blocking her way.

'Go!" she cried. "Don't look at me!"

'What?" She heard the figure moving toward her, grass crunching beneath his feet. "No, don't be afraid…"

'Go away!" Cassandra looked toward the trees, dashing quickly for their cover. She had been seen, but it was dark and maybe she would be all right. She hurried through the garden toward a tangled stand of pear trees.

'Wait," pleaded the figure. His voice was young, like a boy's.

Terrified, Cassandra ran for the trees and collided with a stout limb. Pain shot through her head. The world winked briefly out of existence, and when she opened her eyes again she was on her back. Wet ground soaked her legs and backside. Hurriedly she tried to sit up, but soon saw an unfamiliar face hovering over her.

'Are you all right?"

Cassandra heard the voice through a fog of pain. Her bleary eyes focused on the face, and saw the most sublime concern there.

'I'm dead," she moaned.

The boy didn't take her meaning. "No, you'll be all right," he said gently. He knelt down beside her, cradling his hand beneath her head and studying the bruise she knew was rising on her forehead.

Cassandra thought of rolling free and running off, but she knew it was too late—she had been seen. All she could do now was wait until the cancer ate her insides again.

'Great Fate," she whispered, "I'm going to die…"

She reached to her chest and clasped the amulet beneath her dress, expecting to feel its ruby cold with death. Instead the gem still pulsed with warmth. Cassandra took a slow, calming breath.

Remarkably, there was no pain in her belly, just the sharp agony from the blow to her skull.

And you have to get back to your rooms. If Akeela comes looking for me…"

'I'll tell him you're in your room, sleeping." Jancis grimaced, then held out her arms. "Good luck, Cass."

Cassandra embraced her friend, a lump springing into her throat. "Thanks," she whispered. She kissed Jancis on the cheek. "I will see you again."

Jancis chuckled through her tears. "How do you know that?"

'I have faith," Cassandra said. "Now go."

With one last, forlorn smile, Jancis turned and walked quickly down the hall, leaving Cassandra hiding in the shadowy corner. Cassandra waited until her footfalls disappeared. The wing attained a cryptlike silence. She spied the doors, those magic portals that would take her back in time. But she could not bring herself to go to them.

Second thoughts, Cass? she asked herself. No.

It was like she'd told Jancis—she wanted this more than anything. Freedom lay just outside those doors, freedom that would flare like a shooting star before quickly burning out.

Quietly she made her way to the door. Confident no one could hear her, she opened the squeaking portal and peeked outside. Darkness rushed at her; the thick cover of weeds and branches reached for her. Her eyes fought the darkness, searching the garden for Lukien or anyone else. Not a soul was seen or heard. She stepped out into the long shadows, closing the door carefully behind her. Beneath her feet she felt the wetness of dew. Cassandra inched forward, not sure if she should call out for Lukien. How else would he find her? She cleared the castle wall and headed deeper into the garden. The moonlit faces of neglected statues startled her. She steadied her breath and looked around. Aside from the silent statues, the garden was empty. Cassandra's heart sank.

Lukien, she thought desperately, where are you?

She dared not shout his name, yet she wanted to scream. Had she gotten the time wrong? Or worse, had she been duped?

'No," she whispered. Lukien wouldn't lie to her. He would be here, because he had promised it. But Cassandra knew she had no time to waste. If anyone else saw her first…

Cassandra watched him, suddenly understanding. He was lovesick. And understandably, he thought them the same age. But he was horribly embarrassed now, and his pain tugged at Cassandra.

'Don't be embarrassed," she said. She tried to smile. "I'm flattered, really."

'But you thought the note came from someone else." The boy sighed mirthlessly. "I should have known. If you thought it was me, you wouldn't have come."

'No," said Cassandra quickly. Then, "Well, yes, you're probably right. But I was mistaken, you see. I thought the note came from someone I know, someone I care about."

'Oh," said the boy. "So you've already got a… well, someone special." He gave a sad smile. "I should have known that, too. You're so beautiful."

Cassandra flushed at the compliment. He seemed a kind boy, though shy. His awkwardness made her smile. Sixteen years ago, he could have been Akeela.

'What's your name?" she asked.

'Gilwyn Toms," he replied. "From the library."

'The library? Oh, yes, I've heard about you. My… uh, my friend mentioned you once."

'Really? Who's your friend?"

'Doesn't matter. But I have heard about you. You work with the old man."

'Figgis," said Gilwyn. "I'm his apprentice."

'And you saw me in the garden?"

'Yes." Gilwyn pointed toward Lionkeep. "I have a private place that I go sometimes, up there on that balcony."

Cassandra had to squint to see through the darkness. But there it was, a broken, abandoned balcony clinging to the side of the keep. Her heart sank when she saw it. How foolish she had been to risk her life that night. Yet now the risk seemed to be none at all. She patted her belly, feeling fine. The realization of good health made her laugh out loud.

'I'm all right," she chuckled. "I can't believe it."

'It's really not a bad bruise," said Gilwyn. "I told you, you'll be fine."

'Can you sit up?" asked the boy. Carefully he coaxed her up. "That's it. Easy…"

Cassandra put her hand to her forehead and gingerly touched the welt. Pain shot through her skull.

Miserable, she let out a defeated sigh. The boy was looking at her with a giant smile. Then she saw his left hand. It was twisted into a useless club, and when he noticed her studying it he pulled it back, hiding it at his side.

'I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to stare. I…" She shook her head. "I have to get out of here."

With the boy's help she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her head swam and she thought she would faint.

The boy saw her distress and kept his good hand on her, propping her up.

'Here," he said, guiding her toward the pear tree. "Sit down."

Cassandra sat, knowing she had no choice. Once she collected herself she could go back inside.

Then suddenly she thought of Lukien again, and looked around expectantly.

'Are you alone?" she asked the boy.

He laughed. "Of course. Who else would I bring? I thought you'd know I wanted to see you alone."

Cassandra looked at him dreadfully. "What?"

'My note." He studied her bruise as he spoke, obviously concerned. "This doesn't look too bad.

You'll be fine."

'Your note? You mean you sent it to me?"

The boy looked wounded. "Well, yes."

'But you're just a boy. I was expecting——" Cassandra caught herself, then shook her head and started laughing. "I don't believe it. What a fool I am!"

The boy leaned back, grimacing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean anything wrong. I just wanted to meet you."

'Meet me? How do you even know me?"

'I saw you in the garden the night of the moon shadow. You were with an older woman. I saw you and, well…" He swallowed nervously. "You looked so beautiful, so nice. I just thought…"

His voice trailed off with a shrug, so ashamed he could no longer look at her. He pulled his clubbed hand into his sleeve.

Cassandra reached out and took his hand. "Yes, Gilwyn Toms, I am fine. Fine as the day I was born!"

Gilwyn looked at her oddly. "Uhm, well, that's wonderful."

'It is wonderful!" Cassandra's laughter rang through the garden. "Oh, thank you, Gilwyn Toms!"

'For what? I don't understand…"

'No, no you couldn't." Cassandra still had his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "I'm sorry, I'm just so happy!"

'Why?" asked Gilwyn. "About seeing me?"

Cassandra thought a moment, then said, "Exactly, Gilwyn, about seeing you." She leaned over and gave him a kiss, a gesture that made his eyes as wide as platters. "But I have to go now," Cassandra told him. She got to her feet.

'Wait," Gilwyn cried. He rose and stood before her, his smile twisting as he considered his words. "I mean, do you have to go already? I don't even know your name."

'My name?" Cassandra thought for a moment. "My name is Megal."

Gilwyn glowed. "Megal. That's a pretty name. But I never saw you before the moon shadow. Do you work in the keep?"

'Uh, yes, I do. I work for the queen. I'm a chambermaid."

'Really? You've seen the queen?"

'From time to time. Now really, I must go…"

'But I thought all Queen Cassandra's attendants were blind. That's what Warden Graig says."

'Warden Graig doesn't come to our part of the keep very much," said Cassandra, trying to be sweet.

"And don't believe everything you hear about the queen. Good night, Gilwyn Toms." Again she turned to go, and again the boy stopped her.

'Wait, just one more thing." Gilwyn reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gold-colored item.

He smiled as he showed it to Cassandra. "This is for you."

Cassandra studied the thing and saw to her astonishment that it was a ring. Not a valuable one, and certainly not lovely, but the manner of its giving had a beauty all its own. She reached out and took it, twirling it in the feeble moonlight. It was fairly ornate for a simple piece of bronze, and reasonably well forged. Not expensive, but she knew expense was a relative thing.

'You bought this for me?" she asked.

'Do you like it?" asked Gilwyn.

Cassandra nodded. She did like it, very much. "Yes. I think it's beautiful. But why?"

'Because I didn't want to come empty-handed," Gilwyn explained. "I thought you would expect something." He shrugged. "I figured you get gifts all the time."

What a beautifully naive boy, thought Cassandra. "No," she told him, "I don't. People are seldom as thoughtful as you. But you shouldn't have done it. It must have cost you a lot."

'Not a lot," said Gilwyn. "And it was worth it to see your face. Do you want to try it on?"

'I will, Gilwyn, I promise. But I can't stay long. I have to get back, before someone discovers I'm gone."

Disappointment shone on Gilwyn's face. "Oh. Well, yes, of course. You should go."

'Gilwyn," said Cassandra softly, "I know what you want to say. But I'm afraid I must refuse you. I can't see you again." She touched his cheek. The gesture made him melt. "You understand that, don't you?"

'Yes," said Gilwyn, nodding. "You've got someone already."

'That's right. But if I didn't, you would make a wonderful friend."

Gilwyn's smile was brighter than the moon. "Maybe we'll see each other again, Megal. I'm at the keep a lot. Maybe we can talk again sometime."

'Maybe," said Cassandra. "But don't tell anyone about us, all right? I'd be in trouble if the queen knew I was sneaking out at night!"

Naive to the last, Gilwyn said, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to be out here either!"

'Then we can keep each other's secret," laughed Cassandra. Deciding Gilwyn deserved a gift of his own, she slipped his ring onto her finger. "Ah, look," she exclaimed, admiring it. "It's lovely."

'I'm glad you like it," said Gilwyn. He took a deep, melancholy breath. "Good-bye, Megal. Thank you for coming to meet with me."

He looked so vulnerable in the moonlight, Cassandra felt profoundly sad. "You're welcome, Gilwyn.

And thank you for my beautiful gift, and for thinking me so worthy." She tooK'a step away, and could see the heartbreak on his face. "Good night, Gilwyn Toms. I will remember you."

Cassandra turned and left him, sure that she had let him down as easily as possible. As she made her way back through the garden, she could feel his longing eyes on her back. But she did not turn back, for she knew doing so would only add to his misery. She was flattered and she was surprised, and she would have given anything to take away his misery, but that was impossible because love was always like that; out of reach and heartbreaking.

Cassandra's own heartache peaked as she reached the door to Lionkeep. Instead of Gilwyn's earnest face, she saw Lukien's, clouded by time and fading memories.

'A fool, that's what I am," she whispered as she tugged open the door. To think that Lukien would ever return for her seemed the highest idiocy. No longer was she elated over the falseness of her curse.

She wanted Lukien, and that was all.

Then, horror-struck, Cassandra paused in the dark scullery, frozen by a bleak realization.

'I can't tell anyone," she whispered. "I still can't let anyone see me!"

If she did, Akeela would want to be with her. He would finally be able to take her to his bed again, and breed her like a horse for all the children he had wanted for so long. Cassandra pulled the amulet from beneath her garments and stared at it. The ruby in its center pulsed with reassuring warmth.

'Still alive," she groaned. "Still imprisoned." o, er the next several days, the library became remarkably quiet. The weather turned bad again with a string of summer storms, and the long lines of scholars diminished so that the halls of the vast library echoed with an unusual silence. Figgis enjoyed the solitude.

The last few weeks had been chaotic, leaving him little time to acquire new manuscripts or indulge in reading, which still remained his favorite pastime. Too busy seeing to the needs of the library's many patrons, stacks of books had gone neglected in his study, waiting for his attention and never quite getting it. So when the poor weather had dampened the summer crowds, Figgis was grateful.

Still, the silence of'one particular person disturbed him.

For two days Gilwyn had hardly spoken a word to anyone. He had gone about his chores efficiently and had been polite to the patrons, but he had skipped meals and kept to himself, and he had lost his previous air of mystery. He no longer disappeared for hours in the evening or smiled secretly to himself the way he had just a week earlier. He did not join Figgis for cards, either, or show the slightest interest in the library's exotic books. Gilwyn's imagination seemed suddenly stunted, and it worried Figgis. But he didn't question the boy, for he supposed he already knew the cause of Gilwyn's melancholy. He had been young himself once, and he knew the symptoms of heartbreak. It was clear that whatever girl Gilwyn had been chasing at Lionkeep had discovered his affections and rebuffed them. Figgis pitied the boy. He had never been a father but he had come to love Gilwyn as a son, and he wished for some way to ease the boy's heartache. But he also knew that Gilwyn was shy and wouldn't want the attention. So he had given the boy a wide berth and just enough work to occupy his troubled mind, and he supposed that, in time, Gilwyn would get over the girl.

It was a particularly rainy night when Figgis suddenly remembered his promise to Gilwyn to locate some texts about Grimhold. In the commotion of the past week he had forgotten the strange request, and Gilwyn himself had not brought it up again. Figgis was in his office when he remembered it, yawning over a stack of paperwork. There were dozens of manuscripts that still needed cataloging and his eyes blurred from lack of sleep. Still, it occurred to him that a book of fanciful stories might take Gilwyn's mind off his troubles, so he set aside his paperwork and headed for the catalog room. It was very late and Gilwyn was already asleep, as was Mistress Delia. Figgis had the entire library to himself. The many halls took on a ghostly pallor at night, illuminated only by the candle Figgis held in a holder and the occasional flash of lightning through the windows. Thunder rumbled through the corridor and a fierce rain pelted the roof and windows. The halls of the library rang with the storm, thrumming with the unearthly music.

The catalog room was on the north side of the library. Though it was on the ground floor, it was still a good distance from Figgis' study. It was one of the library's largest single chambers, larger by far than the structure's many reading rooms, and it was not accessible to anyone but Figgis. A key for the room dangled from a chain on Figgis' belt. As a thunderbolt shook the hallway, Figgis fished the key up from its chain. Down the hall stood a locked door, a round-topped guardian of iron bolted with a heavy padlock.

It had occurred to Figgis long ago that his catalog was at least as valuable as the library's many manuscripts, for without a thorough record, the contents of the library were useless. There were far too many books, scrolls, journals, maps, and ledgers to be navigated without a guide, so Figgis had set upon another of his great achievements, his mathematical catalog.

Reaching the iron door, he slipped the key into the padlock, careful not to extinguish his candle. The lock clicked as its mechanism tumbled. Figgis unhooked the lock and pushed open the door, revealing a vast, dark interior. As he stepped into the chamber, his little candle swatted at the blackness, pushing it back just enough to reveal a metallic monster in the center of the room.

Figgis had accomplished a lot in his life and was proud of many things. He had invented a plethora of items, some useless, some helpful, and he fancied himself a master of the heavens for being able to predict the movement of the moon and stars. He still smiled when he saw Gilwyn walking without a cane, for the boy's special shoe had taken him months to fashion, first on paper, then in reality. But of all the things Figgis had invented, he was most proud of his catalog. The room didn't house just bits of paper and scribbled ledgers. Rather, this catalog was almost alive. It was why it was hidden from view, locked away from many curious eyes. Not even the scholars of Marn had been able to match what Figgis had created with his catalog—the world's only thinking machine.

The light of the candle played off his creation, an enormous series of armatures and springs operated from a heavy, wide wooden desk. On the desk was an oil lamp. Figgis lit the lamp with his candle and trimmed the wick, bringing it to life. The polished wood of the desk caught the glow, reflecting it around the room. There were no windows in the chamber, for the catalog was much too delicate to risk damage or theft. Figgis sat down at the desk, the head of the multilimbed, metal monster. Each armature of the device disappeared into the darkness, heading off in a hundred different directions, guided by springs and sprockets and masterminded by a bank of levers at the desk. Each lever was spring loaded and represented a different letter or number. The levers controlled the armatures through a series of notches along their lengths. Depending on where the armature rested, a unique string of letters or numbers could be sent to the machine. The machine would then match the letters and numbers against a giant scroll of copper ribbon punched with millions of dots and dashes, the machine's peculiar mathematical language.

Once a matching string was found—a process that could take minutes or hours depending on the amount of information the machine was fed—a matching armature would punch out a reply in real letters and numbers on a square of copper just beneath the levers on the desk. If all went well and the catalog was asked a valid question, the reply was often quite astonishing. It was far more than a simple catalog of the books within the library. It was a vast and thoughtful cross-reference, one that could interact with its operator to answer the most vexing questions about the library's contents.

Its drawbacks, however, were equally grand. The catalog required hours of careful input each week, so that it could completely understand the mountains of new material constantly being brought to the library. Worse, only Figgis could operate the thing. Though he had tried to school Gilwyn in its use, the thinking machine required a deep understanding of its construction and an almost inhuman gift for numbers, neither of which Gilwyn possessed. In fact, no one in Koth seemed to have Figgis'

extraordinary flair for mathematics, making him the sole proprietor of the strange machine's knowledge.

Yet for all its unique abilities, the catalog was less than perfect. It could still not think on its own, but could only regurgitate what it had been told. It had a remarkable memory, much better than any human's because it never forgot anything, and it could tell precisely how many books the library contained on any subject, where they were stored, and so on. But it could not answer questions about its own construction or hypothesize about its own world. And for that, it was a disappointment to its creator. Figgis still longed to make his thinking machine actually think, but it seemed an impossible goal. Still, he worked at it, sure that one day it would have its own cognition. If only he could teach Gilwyn to master its inner workings; then his mechanical progeny could live on, and perhaps one day reach its ultimate destiny.

'A grand dream," whispered Figgis with a smile. And a riddle he wouldn't unravel tonight. He settled back in the well worn chair, cracking his knuckles as he studied the series of levers before him. To Figgis, the catalog was not unlike a musical instrument. At times like these, when the library was empty and the world was dark and quiet, he could sit for hours and ply the levers of his odd machine, never tiring of its precision. Tonight, though, he decided to ask the catalog a very simple question. His fingers flew across the console, deftly pulling levers. The springs snapped to life and the armatures began moving, and soon the dark spider was alive, whirring and purring under its own mechanical power. Counterweights rose and fell, pulleys turned and cords unspooled, all to translate the simple sentence Figgis had entered.

BOOKS ON GRIMHOLD?

Figgis sat back in the darkness, waiting for a reply. He listened as the machine digested his question, then began searching its gigantic copper scroll for answers. The scroll made a peculiar music as the machine's brushlike fingers danced over the punched-out dots and dashes, like the ringing of a thousand tiny bells. It took almost four minutes for the catalog to find its references, but when it did it shot back its reply with quick, staccato stabs. Figgis watched the armatures punch the answer onto the square of copper.

YES, the machine replied, then printed the names and locations of the books in its copper brain.

TALES OF GRIMHOLD A FAMOUS CHILDHOOD LEGENDS AND MYTHS C TYRANT

OF NORVOR, MOR'S GRIM HOLD ON POWER L Figgis studied the list, frowning when he came to the last entry.

'Stupid machine."

He pulled another lever, this time dropping a sharp blade across the square of copper and cutting it from the rest of the ribbon. The machine's printed reply fell into Figgis' waiting palm. He was about to leave the catalog when a fanciful idea seized him. Again he worked the levers, asking the machine another question.

DOES GRIMHOLD EXIST?

It wasn't really the kind of question the machine could answer, but Figgis waited patiently for the catalog to search its mechanical memory. He expected the search to take a long while, that the scribe had been from Ganjor, an obvious graduate from that territory's school of penmanship.

Satisfied, Figgis returned to his study. He would give the book to Gilwyn in the morning.

When he reached his study Figgis relit the lamp on his desk and set the book down, then lifted the mug of tea he had been drinking to his lips. The tea was cold but he sipped it anyway, considering the book. It was very old, and his penchant for antique books rose up uncontrollably. He opened the cover and within minutes was enthralled by the first chapter, a ridiculous conjecture about the origins of Grimhold. The author claimed that no one knew for certain when Grimhold had been founded, but that it was very ancient and had probably existed before most of the nations of the continent. Figgis snorted at the idea, thinking it a convenient excuse for vagueness. It wasn't science at all, but it was entertainment, and soon the minutes and pages were flying by. Figgis was enthralled by the fictions in the book, marveling like a child at the stories of vampires and werebeasts, and how they were summoned to Grimhold by the White Witch, the leader of the dark hordes. According to the book, the White Witch had a name that couldn't be pronounced by a human tongue, and that to look upon her meant certain death. Figgis laughed at the fanciful idea. There was magic in the world, certainly, but so much of this book was utter nonsense. He wondered for a moment if he really should give it to Gilwyn. After all, he was training his apprentice to be a man of logic, not a purveyor of myths.

Yet the book had the lure of all interesting tales, and soon Figgis had squandered an hour reading it.

Exhausted, he leaned back and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was well past midnight, but he was right in the middle of a particularly interesting chapter discussing the location of the fabled place.

The author didn't pretend to know the exact whereabouts of Grimhold, because that was as great a secret as any in history, but there were theories. Some said Grimhold existed in a realm beyond normal existence, behind a magical veil that could only be breached through magic or death. Others claimed that Grim-hold was in fact part of the everyday world, and was simply well-hidden from human eyes.

but the machine stopped after only a minute, quickly returning its answer. Figgis looked down at the brief reply and laughed.

YES 'Yes? And how would you know?"

The answer was sadly obvious. The machine had simply found a manuscript with Grimhold in its title and said that yes, Grim-hold did exist, at least in its own limited definition of existence. Figgis sighed, contemplating his grand catalog. Right now it had the brain of a stunted child, but someday it would be so much more.

'But not today."

Figgis pushed back his chair and stood up. He blew out the oil lamp, retrieved his candle in its holder and left his giant catalog, careful to lock the iron door behind him. Once out in the hallway he discovered that the rain had slackened. The windows were slick with raindrops, but the worst of the pelting had stopped and the library was eerily quiet. He reached into his pocket and glanced down at the books his catalog had recommended. Of the three names the first sounded the most promising, so he turned toward the western wing of the library in search of entry number A9938. It was, for obvious reasons, the fiction section of the library, part of a huge collection of storybooks amassed for the amusement of the local children. Each week Figgis chose one of the fiction books and read them to Koth's children, part of a ritual that had become very popular among the rich and poor alike. Somehow, Figgis had overlooked the book on Grimhold, but now that he knew exactly where to look he homed in on it easily. Section A99

was a generally popular area of the library with children, but adults shunned it and serious scholars—who were the bulk of the library's patrons—never ventured into the fictions. By the light of his lonely candle Figgis passed through the rows of manuscripts, coming at last to a bookcase stuffed with poorly bound books sporting fraying pages. He turned his head sideways to read the spines, and soon found the book he was looking for amid a group of similarly neglected titles. Its old pages smelled of must and decay.

Figgis read the words on the cover, studying the faded handwriting. Tales of Grimhold had been written ages ago. Figgis' expert eye told him Then Figgis read something remarkable. He read it once, not giving it any notice until he was well past it, but then he paused and read the sentence again. He read it aloud, his whisper breaking the immutable silence.

'Most scholars of merit believe that Grimhold rests across the Desert of Tears, somewhere beyond Jador. That is why, in the Jadori language, Grimhold is called The Hidden Place Beyond the Desert."

Figgis' tired eyes lingered on the page.

'Great Fate, it can't be…"

Excitement seized him, the kind of thrill he had felt only once before. Years ago, when he'd discovered the first Eye of God, he had felt the same powerful stirrings. Once, he had read the same phrase in an obscure Jadori text.

'The hidden place beyond the desert!"

Figgis closed his eyes, contemplating the enormity of his theory. Had Jador ever been the hidden place across the desert? Had his quarry been Grimhold all along?

There were a thousand unanswered questions. Figgis' mind grappled with them instantly. There were things that fit perfectly and others that didn't match at all. Even so, a little voice in his head told him he had stumbled upon something monumental.

Wild with excitement, Figgis quickly took up the book and dashed out of his study. The lateness of the hour hardly mattered anymore—he needed to see Akeela at once.

,'Ykeela the Ghost had been an insomniac for the past sixteen years. The multifold pressures of rulership had robbed him of the simple pleasure of a good night's sleep, and he had given up fighting this affliction long ago. In the first years of the battle he had ordered physicians to find him a remedy, and they had prescribed sleeping powders and herbs that had sickened him, but nothing they did brought Akeela rest. He had realized early on that his trouble was not of the body but was rather a symptom of his fevered mind, and no powders or simples could kill his demons.

Eventually, Akeela found solace in the night, the only time of day when Lionkeep was truly quiet.

When the sun went down, so did Akeela's thousand anxieties. After midnight the keep became remarkably still, and Akeela could think clearly and without interruption. He had developed many quirks in the years of his kingship, one of them being an intolerance for noise. He knew the irrationality of his disorder yet could do nothing to stop it. Just like with his insomnia, he was powerless against it. It was why he waited all day for the night to finally come, and why he relished the darkness. Instead of sleeping he often wandered the abandoned halls of Lionkeep, occasionally chatting with the guards on duty, but more often heading for the balcony of the dining room with a bottle of brandy. He didn't like remaining in his bedchamber, and the cool night air of the balcony relaxed him. The brandy relaxed him, too. The liquor was a habit with him now. Over time he had acquired a great thirst for it. Other than the quiet of night, it was the only thing that brought him peace.

Tonight was a particularly cool night on the balcony. The rains had finally subsided and the clouds had parted to reveal a canopy of stars. The city of Koth rose up around the keep, shadowy and deathly still, and Library Hill beckoned in the distance. Akeela tilted the brandy bottle and refilled his glass, making himself comfortable on the iron chair. Puddles of rainwater glistened on the rail of the balcony but the little wooden table and his seat were dry, and his bottle was nearly full, so Akeela was happy. The brandy burned his throat as it reached his empty stomach. There had been no dinner for him tonight, for Akeela hardly ate at all these days. Food no longer interested him. He was gaunt from lack of appetite and his skin and eyes bore an unhealthy pallor. And though he was still relatively young, he had aged horribly. He considered this as he drank, knowing that the liquor had sped his aging almost as effectively as Cassandra's amulet had arrested her own. When he found the other Eye—if he found it—she would be young and beautiful and he would be a scarecrow.

But that was a trouble for another day, and tonight Akeela had enough to occupy his mind. He took another pull of brandy and sat back in his chair, oblivious to everything but the skyline of Koth until a shadow crossed his shoulder. Sluggishly he turned around, expecting to see one of his many guards at the threshold of the balcony. Instead he saw Figgis. The old man clutched a book in his hands and wore a disquieting grin. Behind him stood a pair of guards. The librarian's face was flushed, as if he'd run a great distance. He broke away from the two guards and hurried out onto the balcony. The guards were on him in an instant, dragging him backward.

'My lord," he called, "I have to speak to you!"

Akeela waved off his men and stood up. The guards relented, falling back without a word. Figgis snickered at them before turning back to Akeela.

'My lord, I'm sorry for the interruption—

'Have you any sense of the time, Figgis?" asked Akeela crossly.

'Yes, my lord, I know, but—"

'What are you doing here?"

The old man held out his book. "This, my lord, will make my visit worth your while."

Akeela sighed. "Indeed?"

Figgis looked over his shoulders toward the waiting guards. They were still well within earshot, ready to protect the king.

'My lord, what I have to say isn't for everyone to hear," said Figgis. "If you could shoo away your guards…?"

'Go on," Akeela told the knights, laughing. "He's harmless."

The guards complied, dropping away from the balcony until they were almost out of sight down the darkened hall. Akeela returned to his seat, falling into it. He pushed the brandy bottle toward the librarian.

'Now then, Figgis, have a drink with me and tell me what's on your over active mind."

'Akeela, I have stupendous news." Figgis approached the table but did not sit down. "Great, wonderful news!"

'Really? Well, perhaps I should have a drink then!"

Before he could tilt the bottle to his lips, Figgis grabbed hold of it. "My lord, stop."

Akeela grinned. "Ah ah, don't touch the king…"

'You're drunk and you're not listening to me. Come now, this is important!"

Akeela relented, setting the bottle aside. Figgis was the only one he allowed to scold him, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because the old man wasn't afraid of him. He had never been, and Akeela respected that. "Will you at least take a seat?" he asked.

'Grimhold," said Figgis. He remained standing, staring down at Akeela.

'What's that?"

'Grimhold, my lord. Do you know it?"

'Uh, not personally, no."

Figgis carefully laid the ancient book onto the table. "I think I know where the other amulet is hidden."

All the sarcasm blew out of Akeela like a wind. His fingers reached across the table for the book.

"What do you mean?"

'Grimhold, my lord. That's where the other amulet is."

'How do you know? Tell me."

Figgis shrank a little. "Well, I don't actually know for certain…"

Akeela fixed him with a freezing glare. "Do not toy with me, Figgis. What have you learned?"

'A theory, my lord. An idea." Finally Figgis took a seat, dragging one of the iron chairs around to sit next to his king. With Akeela watching, he began flipping through the battered book. "This is a collection of stories about Grimhold," he said. "I was reading it tonight. I was about to go to sleep when I discovered something extraordinary."

'The book mentions ?"

'No, my lord, not precisely."

'Then precisely what, damn it?"

'Wait. I'm looking for it."

Losing patience, Akeela huddled closer to Figgis, watching him rifle through the endless pages. It seemed like any other book of stories and rhymes, and Akeela felt his hope fading fast. Finally, Figgis located the proper page. He traced a bony finger over the passage as he read.

'Here it is. 'Most scholars of merit believe that Grimhold rests across the Desert of Tears, somewhere beyond Jador. That is why,

•

in the Jadori language, Grimhold is called The Hidden Place Beyond the Desert.' "

Figgis leaned back with a satisfied smile. Akeela stared at him in disbelief.

'So?" he roared. "What's that got to do with anything?"

'Don't you see?" asked Figgis. "The hidden place across the desert. Don't you remember, my lord?"

Akeela thought for a moment, going over the phrase. It was familiar, but it took his brandy-soaked mind a moment to remember.

'Yes," he said pensively. "I remember it. The hidden place beyond the desert. Jador."

'No, not Jador." Figgis tapped the book. "Grimhold!"

'No, Figgis, please don't tell me that," begged Akeela. "Please tell me you didn't get my hopes up over a myth."

'Myth, my lord? What is myth? Are a myth? Is it a myth that Cassandra still lives, free from her illness after sixteen years?"

Akeela reached for his brandy. "Figgis, please…"

'Stop," snapped Figgis, snatching the bottle and shoving it aside. "Don't hide in your bottle. Just listen to me, let me explain." He took up the book again and showed the passage to Akeela like he was a child.

"This term, hidden place across the desert. I misread it sixteen years ago. I thought the Jadori text referred to Jador. But it doesn't, don't you see? It means Grim-hold."

'There is no Grimhold, Figgis."

'How do you know? You didn't really believe in the amulets until I brought one back for you. Isn't that proof enough, my lord? If the amulets exist, then why can't Grimhold exist as well?"

'A place of monsters? You dream, my friend."

'A place of magic, my lord. Led by a witch. Look at Cassandra and tell me you don't believe in magic!"

'I can't look at Cassandra," said Akeela sourly. "Thanks to that damn curse."

Figgis smiled. "Ah, but now your exile from her might be coming to an end. Think about it, my lord.

We always knew there must be another Eye of God. Now we may have found it. Can't you see that?"

Akeela nodded. It was implausible, but he saw the possibility in Figgis' theory. It made sense, or at least some of it did. There vvas no reason to doubt that the hidden place referred to in the Jadori manuscript had been Grimhold all along, but that still left dozens of questions unanswered.

'If you're right," said Akeela, "then who is the wife of Kadar?"

Figgis looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

'Kadar's wife, remember? The Jadori manuscript says that the master of the hidden place wears the Eye, and that his wife wears the Eye's twin. So then who is Kadar's wife?"

'You remember things quite clearly when you want to," said Figgis with a grin. "The truth is, I don't know. Maybe I read the whole thing wrong. Maybe the master of the hidden place isn't Kadar at all." A light went on in his old eyes. "Maybe," he said softly, "the master of Grimhold wears the other amulet!"

Akeela rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Figgis. Why would a witch have a wife?"

'I don't know," confessed Figgis. The question deflated him a little. "But we're close to getting answers, I know we are." He patted the book. "This has been a giant breakthrough. I feel it."

A wave of dizziness suddenly swept through Akeela, and it wasn't the drink or the lateness of the hour. Seeing Figgis so excited stoked a bad memory. He recalled with awful clarity a similar conversation sixteen years ago, one that had resulted in his separation from Cassandra. But now Figgis was offering hope once again, and it tantalized Akeela.

'Figgis, I can't live with this being a joke," he said softly. "Sixteen years I've waited, and I can't wait another day. I have to know that this is real."

'My lord, be fair. I've only just started researching it."

'I don't care," said Akeela. "Find out all you can about Grim-hold and its location, but be quick about it. I want that amulet, Figgis. And I don't want to wait a moment more than I must."

'All right, Akeela," she said gently. "If you believe it, then fine. Figgis must know what he's doing."

There was a long silence behind the partition. At last, Akeela's disappointed voice said, "I thought you would be happier about it, Cassandra. We're talking about being together, finally after all these years."

'I am happy, Akeela," said Cassandra, brightening. "I'm just… surprised."

'Yes, I know it's hard to believe. But Figgis is confident. It's a lot to explain, but he believes he's been misreading his texts all this time. He thinks Grimhold really exists, and that they have the Eye." Akeela's tone grew excited again. "It's not madness, Cassandra. This time we're close. I feel it!"

Cassandra gave a silent sigh. It was madness. She decided to ply him with gentle lies.

'I believe you, Akeela," she said. "But what now? How will you find the amulet? How will you even find Grimhold?"

'Figgis will research it. But I won't depend on that. If Grim-hold lies beyond Jador, then the Jadori will know where it is. They will tell us its location."

Cassandra sat up straight. "Will they? Why?"

'When they see our army marching toward them, they will tell us."

'Fate above, Akeela, you don't mean it!"

'I mean every word." Akeela drifted closer to the partition. "I will be with you, Cassandra. I will, and no Jadori filth or freaks from Grimhold will stop me. If they have the Eye of God, they will give it to me!"

" No!" shouted Cassandra. She swung out of bed and put her face to the partition, close enough to smell Akeela's liquored breath. "You're talking about a massacre, Akeela. I won't allow it!"

'I'm talking about us being together! Gods and angels, can't you see that?"

'I won't let you murder people, Akeela. Not for me!"

'Then for me!" Akeela hissed. Enraged, he put his fist through the partition, splitting the fabric like paper. His hand shot out and grabbed Cassandra's nightgown. For the first time in years she saw his face in the near perfect darkness. His eyes V^assandra was deep in a dream when she heard the voice, it came from a great distance, first as part of her dream, then as something from the wakened world, calling to her. She struggled against the bonds of sleep, searching her consciousness for its location.

'Cassandra, wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by impenetrable darkness. Startled, she glanced around.

There was no candlelight. Her windowless chamber coiled about her like a noose.

'Wake up, Cassandra. Wake up."

'I am up," she replied, realizing only then that the voice was Akeela's. It seemed to fill the darkness.

She sat up, shaking her head. Her dream had been so vivid, yet now she could scarcely recall it. She turned toward the partition separating her from her husband, asking groggily, "Akeela, what is it? What time is it?"

'It's late," replied the disembodied voice, "but it doesn't matter. I've found it, Cassandra. I've found the other Eye of God!"

Cassandra gasped. Was she still dreaming? "What?"

'The amulet, Cassandra. The second Eye!"

'You've found it?" she sputtered. Panic took her breath away. "You have it?"

'Not yet. But now I know where it is. Figgis has located it."

'Are you sure?" she asked dreadfully. After all these years, the news was unbelievable. "I mean, where is it?"

Akeela's voice was like a bell. "Grimhold!" He chuckled in delight. "Grimhold, Cassandra! Can you believe it?"

'Grimhold?" Cassandra had to keep herself from laughing. "Akeela, Grimhold doesn't exist. It's a myth. Great Fate, don't you know that?"

'I'm not a child," Akeela growled. "Grimhold isn't just a myth. It exists, beyond the Desert of Tears.

It's somewhere past Jador."

It was all too much for Cassandra, whose head began to swim. What little she knew of Grimhold was confined to fairy tales and bedtime stories, and she thought Akeela thoroughly mad for believing it was real. But believe it he did; she could hear the conviction in his voice.

were closed but his mouth was turned in a snarl. "I've lived without you long enough, Cassandra. I won't live like this a minute more!"

Cassandra stared at him, wild-eyed. He didn't know that her curse had been a hoax, yet in his rage he had risked her life. "Akeela," she said evenly, "let go of me."

Slowly he opened his fist, letting the cloth of her gown slip away, but his fingertips lingered on her, brushing her. Cassandra didn't move. She stared at him, watching the twisted longing on his face. For a brief second his fingers drifted above her breasts…

And then he pulled away.

'We will be together, Cassandra," he said. "No matter what it takes."

Letting his words linger in the darkness, he left her without a word of good-bye. Through the ruined partition Cassandra watched his shadow depart. She put a hand to her chest; he had torn her gown. She could still feel his touch on her skin.

'Murder," she whispered. She glanced around the black chamber, wondering what to do. Akeela was thoroughly mad. She had seen it on his face and could do nothing to cure him. But she couldn't let him lead a massacre. Somehow, she had to stop him.

And there was only one person who could help her.

T JLhe day after his meeting with Akeela, Figgis closed the library. He did not explain his reasons to Gilwyn or Mistress Delia or to any of the library's many dependents. He merely closed the main door and locked it, putting up a sign obscurely stating that the library would reopen as soon as possible. There was no word of warning—it was simply done. And Figgis, who was always cheerful despite the many ailments of his age, quickly became an obsessed curmudgeon, locking himself in his study with piles of books and manuscripts. He had told Gilwyn he was on a very urgent mission for the king, and that he needed to do his research in peace. Warning the boy to stay close and not ask any questions, Figgis would bellow for Gilwyn to bring him books and to search through the endless racks of maps for strange, little-used charts. And when he wasn't in the study, which was rarely, he was in his catalog room, consulting with his thinking machine. He took all his meals alone, forgetting to eat until Mistress Delia brought him food, and even after three days he did not divulge the purpose of his work. Gilwyn quickly grew suspicious of his mentor. He had never seen Figgis so driven, and it frightened him. The old librarian worked like a man possessed, and Gilwyn could barely begin to guess as to the task King Akeela had given him. He worried that something was very wrong in Koth. He worried also that Figgis would expire from the strain. But he voiced none of his concerns. Instead he was Figgis' loyal apprentice. He delivered the maps and manuscripts without complaint and was at the librarian's side instantly whenever he was called. For all Figgis had done for him, Gilwyn knew he owed the man service.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, a surprise visitor arrived. Gilwyn was loading up his cart in the main hall when he heard the insistent pounding at the door. At first he ignored it, thinking one of the scholars was begging entry. But when the knocking finally grew to a crescendo Gilwyn stopped what he was doing and stomped to the door as quickly as his bad foot would carry him. Angry, he threw the latch and reached for the pull.

'Can't you read?" he asked before the door was half open. "We're closed."

The austere faces of armored knights greeted him. Gilwyn stiffened when he saw them—three men, all similarly garbed in silver armor and crimson capes. They wore no helmets, but each man bore a scabbarded sword. They were a daunting trio, and the one at the center was the most frightening by far.

Unlike the others, his cape was trimmed with silver and held with a golden clasp, and he had colored ribbons on his armor at the shoulders, denoting him as a man of rank. His jet hair was combed back slick against his head, its color mimicked by his meticulously trimmed beard. A pair of dark eyes smouldered in his stern face.

" I don't give a damn if you're closed, boy," he boomed. "Didn't you hear us knocking? Or are you deaf as well as—His insults suddenly stopped as he spied Gilwyn's clubbed hand. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "I am General Trager. I want to see your master."

Gilwyn was stunned. "General Trager?" He stared at the man stupidly. "Really?"

Seeing Gilwyn's awe, the general puffed a little. "Yes, it is I. Now step aside."

'Of course," said Gilwyn. He had only seen the general once or twice before, and only then from a great distance while watching the knights drill on the grounds around Lionkeep. Now that he was in the man's presence, Gilwyn was tongue-tied. He stepped aside for the soldiers, then remembered Figgis'

strict or ders not to be disturbed. The general crossed the threshold and looked around, nodding.

'So, this is what King Akeela has spent a thousand fortunes on, eh? Very nice."

'You've never been here, General?" Gilwyn asked. The idea shocked him. "Never once?"

For a moment General Trager seemed perturbed by the question. But he indulged Gilwyn, saying,

"Oh, a long time ago, yes, when I had time for such nonsense. But it's grown since then." His men followed him into the entry hall as he continued to study the structure. There wasn't much to see in this part of the library, just stone walls and torches, but the general seemed intrigued by it. He rapped on the wall with his knuckles, testing its soundness. "I've always though that Library Hill would make a good location for a fortress. Such a commanding position."

His underlings nodded.

'Good construction," the general added. "Now, boy, where is that waterhead Figgis?"

'Uhm, well, Master Figgis is in his study. But he asked not to be disturbed."

'He will see me. Which way is the study?"

'Right down that hall, sir. But really, I don't think he'll take to being disturbed. He's on a project for the king."

General Trager sighed dramatically. "The king and I are closer than two toes in a stocking. I'm here on the king's business. Now be a good boy and take me to your master."

'Well, all right," Gilwyn stammered, unsure what to do. Figgis might be very cross, but he knew there was no way to disobey the general. "This way, sir," he said as he walked down the hall.

General Trager and his silent entourage followed. But before they had taken ten paces, the general noticed Gilwyn's uneven gait.

'You limp, boy. What's that shoe you wear?"

'Figgis made it for me. Before I started wearing it I couldn't walk without a cane."

'Remarkable. Your foot is like your hand, then?"

'Yes, sir," replied Gilwyn. He didn't know how much he should tell the man. "Since I was born."

Figgis hissed in annoyance. "Tell Akeela I'm doing the best I can. Sending you down here to nag me won't hurry things."

'I'm not an errand boy," huffed the general. "I have important news to discuss." He paused, turning toward Gilwyn. "But it isn't for everyone's ears."

Gilwyn grimaced. "I'll go then, Figgis?" The general said, "Quickly."

'Very well," Figgis relented. "Gilwyn, leave us for a few minutes. Why don't you go and find those maps I asked for?"

'All right," said Gilwyn. There was no sense arguing, so he left, careful not to close the door behind him. He took a few steps away from the study, rounded the corner again toward the main hall, then quietly doubled back and cocked his ear to listen. Muffled voices came to him, amplified by the stone corridor. General Trager was talking, his tone loud and clear off the stonework.

'There's no time, Figgis. Akeela's made his decision. I'm organizing my divisions now and will lead them myself."

'Divisions?" shrieked Figgis. "How many men are you taking?"

'Enough to overpower the Jadori, be assured. If they stand in the way of finding Grimhold, we'll destroy them."

'No! There's no reason to invade!"

'It's not your decision. Akeela wants it this way. He wants that amulet, and he'll brook no failure."

Amulet? Gilwyn seized on the word.

'Trager," Figgis continued, "the Jadori aren't a threat to anyone. You know that. You can tell that to Akeela."

'Akeela doesn't want a repeat of our last fiasco, Figgis. That's why he's sending an army. If the Jadori know where Grimhold is, we'll make sure they tell us."

There was a long pause in the conversation. Gilwyn pressed closer to the wall, straining to hear.

'I need more time," said Figgis. His voice was quieter now, almost despondent. "If I can find out more about Grimhold, maybe I can convince Akeela not to invade Jador. Maybe I can prove to him there's no need for an army."

'Don't waste your breath. If you argue for a peaceful solution, General Trager nodded. "So that is why you work in the library. Otherwise a boy your age should be in service."

'I like books, sir, and I like working for Figgis," Gilwyn looked at the general hopefully. "But I've always wanted to be a horseman."

The general shook his head. "No chance. Not with a hand like that. Be grateful for your place here.

You wouldn't last a day in the Royal Chargers."

Gilwyn continued down the hall, hiding his reddened face from the men as he walked. Suddenly he was acutely aware of his limp and did what he could to conceal it. Yet even with his special shoe the limp was always there, shouting out his malformation. He was grateful none of the knights were laughing, but he could almost sense their smug smiles. Finally, he rounded a bend in the hall and came to Figgis' study.

The corridor was quiet and the study's door was closed. A tray of neglected tea and biscuits sat outside, cold and untouched. Inside, Gilwyn could hear Figgis paging madly through books. He knocked gently.

'Figgis?" he queried, pushing the door open slightly. "Can I come in?"

'Uh-huh," replied Figgis, hardly glancing up from his books. He was surrounded by manuscripts and papers. Maps and charts cluttered the floor, rising to his knees.

'Uh, Figgis, there are people here to see you."

'Tell them to be gone."

'Your attention, Figgis," said General Trager, shouldering past Gilwyn and entering the study. "I've already been delayed enough by the boy."

Figgis lifted his nose from his books. He looked exhausted. His red eyes widened when he recognized the general. "What are you doing here?"

The general sauntered into the room, his two men close behind. "I need to speak to you. It's urgent."

'No, general," countered Figgis. "What I'm doing right now is urgent. It's for the king, and you're interrupting me. Now if you don't mind—

'I'm here on the king's business, old one," said General Trager. "It's about this work you're doing."

I will speak against you. Akeela is wise to send an army. I have already told him so."

'Oh, of course you have." There was a sound like a fist being slammed. "Anything to lead a massacre."

'Curb your tongue," warned the general. "And do what you're told. You will continue your research.

And you will report your findings to me so that I may make arrangements for my army."

The conversation seemed to be ending, so Gilwyn began inching away. Suddenly the door to Figgis'

study slammed shut. Heavy footfalls entered the hall. Thinking quickly, Gilwyn ducked into an alcove and crouched out of sight just as General Trager and his entourage thundered past. The men were only a pace past him when Figgis hurried into the hall after them. Gilwyn pressed against the wall, a hair's breadth from being seen.

'Tell Akeela to forget it," shouted Figgis. "I won't research the amulet anymore, not if he insists on this invasion!"

General Trager turned on his boots. His voice dipped to a threatening growl. "Oh, yes you will, Figgis.

Because what do you think will happen to your precious Jadori if you don't?"

'You're a monster," Figgis sneered.

The general laughed. "You've always thought so, haven't you? You and that girl-pretty pretender Lukien. Well, let me tell you something—if you don't cooperate, I'm going to show your precious Jadori just how monstrous I can be."

'Yes, you'd do that just to spite me," spat Figgis. "You're a jealous bastard, Trager. You always have been."

'Why are we arguing, Figgis? We all want the same thing. You want to find the other amulet as much as Akeela does."

'No," said Figgis. "I'd never want another massacre. Great Fate, last time we killed Kadar's wife! Isn't that enough?"

'Bah," scoffed the general. "We won't win this quest with sentiment." He turned once again and started off down the hall. As he walked he called over his shoulder, "Do your job, Figgis. And have a report to me within the week."

He left Figgis smouldering alone in the hall. Gilwyn watched his mentor from the shadows, holding his breath. Figgis shook his head, cursing softly. The exhaustion on his face melted into total despair. Then, remarkably, he spoke.

'Gilwyn, get out here."

Gilwyn froze.

'I know you're there. I saw you."

Without a word Gilwyn stepped out of the alcove. Figgis would not look at him.

'That was very stupid of you to eavesdrop. If Trager had found you he would have skinned you alive."

'Figgis, I'm sorry. I—"

'Don't say anything, Gilwyn. And don't ask me any questions about what you overheard.

Understand?"

Gilwyn nodded. "All right. But—

'That's it," snapped Figgis. "Not another word." He still didn't look at Gilwyn; he simply turned around and retreated toward his study.

Confused, Gilwyn stood like a statue in the corridor, his head full of troubling questions.

-Tor three nights Cassandra waited for Gilwyn Toms to return to his secret balcony. And for three nights he did not show. Cassandra had risked everything in finding the boy, because she sensed that she could trust him and because he was the only one she knew that wasn't blind, other than Akeela. She had a mission for the young apprentice, a mission that couldn't be accomplished by any of her sightless servants. If Jancis or any of the others were to go missing, Akeela would surely notice. And Cassandra didn't want Akeela suspecting anything. He was lost in his new obsession over Grimhold, and was perfect for her scheme. Too enamored with the thought of reuniting with her, Cassandra knew Akeela would never suspect her plans. But her plans depended on Gilwyn, and Gilwyn was nowhere to be found.

It took Cassandra all of three days before Akeela told her that the library was closed. Figgis, Akeela explained, was doing research into Grimhold. Cassandra realized that the research was probably keeping Gilwyn occupied as well, and she supposed it was why he hadn't come to his lofty hideout. But she needed to deliver a message to the boy, and time was of the essence. Cassandra knew that she could not risk going to the library herself. Even if she could be seen by human eyes, she didn't want anyone knowing it. That left only Jancis in her sphere of trust, but Jancis was blind and the library was closed.

There was simply no way to get a message to Gilwyn.

Cassandra brooded over her predicament, but only for a moment. Blindness, she decided, could be turned to an advantage.

pilence and suspicion hung over the library like a pall. Figgis continued his feverish research, refusing to speak to Gilwyn about his clash with General Trager. Gilwyn kept out of his mentor's way, dutifully performing his chores and keeping his thousand questions to himself. The conversation he had overheard played over and over in his mind as he worked, organizing the endless shelves of books after Figgis had gone through them like a whirlwind in his mad search for information about…

What?

Gilwyn still didn't know for certain, but he wasn't stupid either. He had been able to add up the disparate clues and knew that Figgis was researching Grimhold. He just didn't know why. And he didn't know why General Trager and Akeela were interested in Grimhold, either, or why the Jadori were involved. It was a fascinating mystery, but Gilwyn couldn't unravel it without help, and Figgis wasn't talking. So far, he wasn't even coming out of his study. The old man's silence left Gilwyn with a feeling of impending doom, for he knew that Figgis was suddenly miserable in his work.

And then there was the question of the amulet. Gilwyn frowned as he absently went about shelving books from his cart. He knew Akeela was searching for an amulet, and that was the greatest mystery of all. The idea excited Gilwyn, who had spent a good portion of his young life reading stories. An amulet bespoke adventure and magic, and Gilwyn was desperate to find out more about it. But all the books that might have told him more were in Figgis' study, jealously guarded by the master librarian. Gilwyn sighed, blowing a fog of dust off the book rack, then glanced down at the pile of manuscripts on his wooden cart. It would take another hour or more to finish shelving the books. Teku looked down at him from the top shelf of the rack, her big eyes drooping with weariness.

'Let's take a break," he told her.

The monkey quickly swung down from her perch to rest on his shoulder, and together they made their way toward the front of the library. They had just passed the main entry hall on their way to visit Mistress Delia for a confection when the hall rang with the sound of the door knocker.

'Oh, not again," groaned Gilwyn. He watched the arched doorway, hoping that the visitor would go away, but again the knocker sounded, even louder. It occurred to Gilwyn that it might be General Trager again, so he went to the door and pulled it open, prepared to apologize for keeping the man waiting.

Instead, a lovely woman greeted him. Though her head was hidden behind a cowl, Gilwyn could make out curls of dark hair falling over her forehead, streaked with a lightning bolt of silver. Her eyes darted about when she heard the door creak open. A faint smile curled her lips.

'Hello?" she asked uncertainly.

'Good day," said Gilwyn. He spied her face in the shadows of her cowl. She looked familiar.

'We're closed," he told her, continuing to study her. From the whiteness of her eyes, she appeared to be blind. "I'm sorry. There's a sign on the door, but I guess you couldn't read it."

'No," said the woman. "I can't see." Yet her sightless eyes fixed intently on Gilwyn. "I'm blind."

'Yes," said Gilwyn awkwardly. "I'm sorry." Then suddenly he understood. "Oh!" He looked back to make sure he was alone, then said, "I know you!"

The woman put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. You are Gilwyn?"

Gilwyn nodded excitedly. "You're Megal's friend, the one from the garden."

'I am." Her voice was a whisper. "I must speak with you."

'How did you make your way here? Are you alone?"

'Yes, I came alone," said the woman. "Gilwyn, you must listen to me. I have news from Megal."

wouldn't come looking for her. The night was clear and Cassandra could see the garden's broken statues in the feeble light, watching her. Stars were beginning to blink to life, and the moon had settled over Koth in a mid-month sliver. Cassandra's slippers crushed moss and leaves beneath her as she walked, slowly stalking through the neglected flora. A voice from the right startled her.

'Megal? Is that you?"

Cassandra turned to see Gilwyn emerge from behind a statue. His eager face shone in the moonlight.

He had dressed for the meeting, too, wearing the same expensive scarlet shirt he had at their first encounter.

'Yes, Gilwyn, it's me," said Cassandra. She glanced around. Sure no one could see, she pulled back her cowl to reveal her face. Gilwyn smiled when he saw her, all his lovesickness on full display. "I'm glad you came," she whispered. "You look lovely, Megal," said Gilwyn. "Gilwyn, it's not what you think," said Cassandra quickly. She took him by the arm and guided him out of the moonlight. When the concealing shadow of Lionkeep fell across his face, she whispered, "I have something to tell you, something very important. I'm afraid you won't believe me. But you must, do you understand?"

Gilwyn nodded, but Cassandra could tell that he didn't really understand. And how could she explain it to him? Magic, Grim-hold, her immortality—it all sounded like a fairy tale. And Gilwyn was a bright boy, not at all like some of the keep's stablehands. He would doubt her, at the very least. She led him toward one of the benches, a seat of granite that had been worn by time and weather. Gilwyn sat, looking up at her intently. She sat down next to him and bit her lip.

'Don't be nervous, Megal," said Gilwyn. "You can tell me anything."

Cassandra chuckled. "You're a nice boy, Gilwyn. But what I have to tell you will make you think I'm mad." Gilwyn shook his head. "No I won't. I promise." "You will," Cassandra insisted. "Because I'm not Megal.

Gilwyn stepped aside immediately and opened the door wide. "Yes, please, come in."

'I can't. No one must see me. Can you meet Megal in the garden tonight?"

'What? Tonight?"

'It's very important. And no one must know about it. It's a great secret, all right?"

'But I can't just—"

'Please, Gilwyn, you must. Megal will meet you in the garden an hour past dusk. You have to be there."

'Why? What's so important? Why can't she just come to the library to talk to me?"

'I can't explain," said the woman. "You just have to trust me." Her blind eyes looked pleadingly at Gilwyn. "Will you be there?"

Gilwyn's head was swimming. He wanted desperately to see Megal again. Any meeting, even a secret one, was a dream come true.

'All right," he agreed. "I'll be there."

The woman's shadowed face brightened. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll tell my lady to expect you."

'Your lady?" asked Gilwyn.

The woman turned and strode quickly down the walkway. Gilwyn made to call after her but stopped himself. He would have to wait until tonight for answers.

'Teku," he whispered, "things are getting strange around here."

-L,'xactly an hour after dusk, Cassandra entered the forgotten garden. She wore the same brown cloak that Jancis had worn to the library and had snuck past Ruthanna and her other servants easily, for they were all involved in a word game that Jancis had arranged and were too loud and boisterous to notice the footfalls of their queen as she passed. The pretext had worked perfectly, and Akeela had been too busy making plans with General Trager to bother her much. As she stepped foot in the overgrown patch of weeds and wildflowers, she was confident her husband Megal is one of my housekeepers, Gilwyn." She looked at him squarely and said, "My name is Cassandra. I'm the queen."

Gilwyn looked shocked, but only for a moment. Soon he started laughing.

'Shhh!" Cassandra scolded. She looked around in a panic. "Not so loud!"

'I'm sorry," Gilwyn managed, "but really, you're funny!"

'I'm not lying." Cassandra put a hand to his face and turned him toward her. "I am Queen Cassandra.

I've been locked in this bloody castle for sixteen years, kept young by this!" She pulled the Eye of God from beneath her cloak. It flared an angry scarlet, lighting Gilwyn's shocked face.

'What…?" Gilwyn reached out for the Eye, but didn't touch it. "I know this. I've seen it before…"

Cassandra was stunned. "You have? Where?"

Gilwyn shook his head. "No, it can't be." His fingers lightly brushed the amulet's surface.

'You said you've seen it before? Another amulet like this?"

'No," said Gilwyn, pulling his hand back.

'Gilwyn, please, tell me the truth. If you've seen another amulet like this one…"

'The truth?" Gilwyn smirked, an expression that looked out of place on his innocent face. "Why should I tell you anything? Who are you, really?"

Frustrated, Cassandra leapt to her feet. "I'm Queen Cassandra, damn it!"

'Queen Cassandra's an old woman! She's a crone, everyone knows that." Gilwyn frowned at Cassandra. "How could you be her?"

'Because of this amulet." Cassandra sat back on the bench, shoving the amulet beneath his nose. "This is the Eye of God. It keeps me young, keeps my cancer from killing me."

'What are you talking about?"

'Gilwyn, I'm thirty-two years old. Sixteen years ago, around the time you were born, I was wed to Akeela. We had only been married a few months when I became very ill. It was a growth, a cancer."

'That's impossible," said Gilwyn. "How can it be?"

The amulet dangled from its golden chain. Cassandra let it swing in Gilwyn's face. "Look at it, Gilwyn," she said. "It's magic. It saved me. I didn't think magic really existed until Akeela brought me this amulet. But it's very real. And I'm not lying to you. I am Queen Cassandra."

Too stunned to speak, Gilwyn's eyes darted between the amulet and her perfect, unblemished face.

The incredible tale had slackened his jaw. When he finally spoke, his voice was toneless.

'That's why your blind servant was with you," he mused, seeming to understand. "That's why she called you her lady."

'Right. And that's why I had to meet you here alone. I couldn't risk Akeela or anyone else finding out about me."

'I don't understand," said Gilwyn. "If you're the queen, surely you can go wherever you like."

'I wish that were true," said Cassandra with a sigh. "But I'm not free. This amulet holds me captive."

She glanced up at the tower that was her prison, deciding that Gilwyn needed to know everything. "Do you have time for a long story?"

Gilwyn nodded uncertainly.

'Good. Then listen and don't interrupt."

So Gilwyn listened like a loyal terrier, wide-eyed in the starlight as Cassandra began her impossible tale. She told him of her brief courtship with Akeela and how she had been anxious to marry him and be away from her domineering sisters. And she told him how she had been sick even before meeting Akeela, and how she had hidden her illness from him. But she had grown horribly ill in the following months, nearly dying. There had been no hope for her, not until Figgis had come to Akeela with his remarkable news.

'Figgis?" blurted Gilwyn. "What's he got to do with this?"

'He found the amulet," said Cassandra, hefting the Eye on its chain. "He learned of it from one of his books, and when he told Akeela about it my husband agreed to let him search for it." She let Gilwyn study the amulet again. "It's called the Eye of God," she explained. "It's what keeps me young and alive.

There were supposed to be two of them in Jador, but Figgis only found one. Akeela has been looking for the other one ever since. And now he thinks he's found it."

Gilwyn grimaced. "So that's why Figgis has been so busy. He's trying to find the other amulet."

Cassandra nodded. "A few days ago Figgis came to Lionkeep. He told Akeela that he'd found the other Eye. He thinks that it's in Grimhold."

'Grimhold," echoed Gilwyn, nodding. "Now I get it."

'What do you mean?"

'Megal… I mean, Cassandra." He flushed. "My lady."

Cassandra smiled. "Go on, Gilwyn, tell me what you know."

'My lady, General Trager came to the library a few days ago. He wanted to speak to Figgis. I overheard them talking about Grimhold and some invasion. Figgis was upset, but he wouldn't tell me anything about it."

'No, I'm sure he can't," said Cassandra. "This mission is too important to Akeela. He won't risk anything going wrong. He's obsessed with finding the other Eye."

'But why?" asked Gilwyn. He gestured to the amulet. "Is it like this one? Will it keep him young?"

'Yes, but that's not all." Cassandra's voice grew melancholy. "Akeela is mad, Gilwyn. Do you know that?"

Gilwyn shrugged. "I'd heard that. But Figgis says he's a good man."

'Well, yes, I suppose he is. Deep down, Akeela has always been a good man. But he's changed over the years. His obsessions have maddened him. He wants to find the other Eye so that he can be with me forever, just the two of us."

'I still don't get it," said Gilwyn. "He is with you, isn't he? I mean, he's your husband."

Cassandra smiled. She had almost forgotten the curse. "You are half right, Gilwyn. I am Akeela's wife, true enough. But he cannot look upon me, because he thinks that the amulet is cursed."

The boy's eyes grew wide again. "Cursed?"

'Yes," laughed Cassandra, "the great and dark curse of the Eye. The biggest farce ever perpetrated on anyone!"

Gilwyn stared at her, clearly unnerved.

'Oh, don't be afraid of me. I can't hurt a fly and neither can this damn amulet. But that's not what everyone believes, you see. I'm not supposed to be looked at by human eyes. To do so breaks the power of the amulet, supposedly. That's the curse!"

'Not looked at? But I've looked at you," said Gilwyn. "That first night I saw you."

'Yes! Don't you remember how happy I was? That's when I realized the curse doesn't exist. But I can't tell anyone. If I did, Akeela would want to be with me, and that's something I simply cannot bear.

You're the only one who's looked at me in sixteen years, dear Gilwyn."

'Great Fate," whispered the boy. "I had no idea. Everyone thinks you're a crone, my lady!"

Cassandra grinned proudly. "Vicious rumors, wouldn't you say?"

Gilwyn laughed. Cassandra liked the boy immensely. But he was still hiding something. And she still needed a great favor from him.

'Gilwyn, when you saw my amulet you said you had seen it before." She smiled gently, trying to nurture their fragile trust. "I've told you everything. Now you must do the same. Where did you see this other amulet?"

The boy turned away, contemplating the dark garden. "I shouldn't tell you this. I sort of promised that I wouldn't. But about a week ago I saw a woman wearing an amulet just like yours. It was in Koth, very late at night. I was walking home when some men attacked me. They wanted the ring that I'd bought for you."

Cassandra's heart melted. "Oh, Gilwyn. I'm sorry."

'Don't be. The woman with the amulet saved me. She had a big man with her, a real monster. And the amulet glowed when she did magic."

'She did magic?" Cassandra gasped. "You saw her?"

'That's how she saved me." Gilwyn thought for a moment. "It's all hard to remember now. But she helped me; I know she did." His eyes became two narrow slits. "Something about the amulet."

'Gilwyn, please," pressed Cassandra. "You have to remember."

'I can't. I've tried, but that's all I'm ever able to recall."

Cassandra grew curious. "How do you know so much about him?"

'I read, my lady. A lot. When I was younger I used to want to be a Royal Charger, just like Lukien.

But, well, look at me." Cassandra nodded. "I understand."

'I'm not sure you do, my lady. Lukien is long gone. He might even be dead."

'True," Cassandra conceded. "But I don't think so. Lukien was resourceful. I bet he's still alive, somewhere." She leaned in closer, whispering, "And I bet Figgis could find out where he is."

'Figgis? Why would he know where Lukien is?"

'Because Figgis went with Lukien to Jador to find the first amulet," said Cassandra. "They went with Trager sixteen years ago, just before Lukien's banishment."

'You're joking! Figgis went to Jador?"

'He did. Back then he was pretty spry, your mentor. And he was an expert on the Jadori. He still is, I guess. He never told you any of this because it's a great secret. Only a handful of people know about my amulet and its so-called curse. Figgis is one of them."

'I can't believe it. He never said a word to me about it." Gilwyn looked disappointed, as if his mentor's secret had wounded him.

'Don't blame Figgis, Gilwyn. Akeela made him swear never to tell anyone about the amulets. But Akeela says Figgis is still sharp. If anyone can find Lukien, he can."

'I don't know," said Gilwyn pensively. He bit his lip like a little boy, the way Akeela used to. "If I ask Figgis, he'll know that I've been sneaking out of the library. He might even deny everything."

'Ask him," said Cassandra. "And when you do, you'll know that I'm telling you the truth."

Gilwyn didn't say anything. He didn't even meet her eyes. Cassandra knew he was afraid, and not just about confessing his antics to Figgis. She slid toward him on the bench, so close that their bodies touched. The nearness of her made Gilwyn twitch.

'Gilwyn, you're my only hope," said Cassandra softly. "I can't go to the library myself, and I can't send Jancis or any of my Cassandra leaned back. "It's all right," she said, unsure if she should believe the boy or not. He didn't seem the type to lie, but Figgis was sure the other Eye was in Grimhold. Why would a woman from Koth have it?

'I wish I knew the myth better," she mused. "Who can this woman be?"

Gilwyn smiled. "The Witch of Grimhold?"

They stared at each other, sharing the impossible notion.

'Oh, but that can't be," said Cassandra. "It's all just a legend."

'Is it?" Gilwyn reached out for Cassandra's amulet again, this time holding it up for her to see.

"Someone who's been kept alive for sixteen years ought to believe in magic, don't you think?"

'Yes," said Cassandra. "Yes, I suppose so. But if this witch is here in Koth, then Akeela's invasion is truly for nothing." She looked hard at Gilwyn. "We have to stop him, Gilwyn. We have to warn the Jadori of the invasion."

'We?" Gilwyn reared back. "Is that why you asked me to come here?"

'I need you, Gilwyn," said Cassandra quickly. "I can't do this alone. I need to escape from here, and I need to tell the Jadori they're in danger. You have to help me."

'But I'm just a boy," Gilwyn protested. He held up his clubbed hand. "And not even a whole one at that. How can I help?"

Cassandra took his clubbed hand and held it, a gesture that calmed Gilwyn immediately. "You can do anything the other boys can do, Gilwyn. And you're the only one I can trust. I need you to find someone for me."

'Who?" asked Gilwyn suspiciously.

'Have you ever heard of the Bronze Knight?"

'Yes," said Gilwyn. "Captain Lukien."

Hearing the name made Cassandra smile. "That's right. Lukien. Before I was locked away, he was very close to me. If you can find him, he will help us. You can bring him back here, then he and I can ride for Jador."

'But how can I find Lukien? He hasn't been seen in years, not since his banishment. No one even knows where he is."

other servants after Lukien. It has to be you." She smiled, hoping she still had the power to make boys weak. "Please, Gilwyn. Won't you help me?"

Gilwyn stood slowly and looked up at the sky. "It's late. I have to get back."

But he didn't go. Instead he studied the stars, lost in all Cassandra had told him.

'Gilwyn? Will you help me?"

Still he wouldn't answer.

'Ask Figgis," Cassandra pressed. "He'll tell you the truth. He'll help you find Lukien. And I'll pay whatever it costs. You won't have to worry about money." Desperate, she rose and went to him. "Please, Gilwyn. If not for me, do it for the Jadori. They're innocent people. And you know Trager will butcher them. You're the only one that can help them."

Gilwyn looked down at his clubbed hand. A faint sigh crossed his lips. "I don't know what kind of champion I'll make you, my lady, but I'll help you if I can."

. he familiar whirring of gears hummed through the hall as Gilwyn made his way to the catalog room.

As was customary now, the library was closed and the flames in the oil sconces had been trimmed to a dull glow. Mistress Delia had already retired for the night; Gilwyn had passed her room and caught her lounging with a cup of tea, her feet propped up on a chair and a serene, exhausted smile on her face.

Gilwyn first looked for Figgis in the old man's study, but the shabby office was empty. It had taken less than a second for Gilwyn to deduce his mentor's whereabouts. Now he paused outside the catalog room, listening to the peculiar machine do its work. The door was slightly ajar and Figgis was hunched over the desk, furiously scribbling notes by the light of a single candle. He looked wretchedly tired. He did not hear Gilwyn's approach over the mechanical noise. His hand worked diligently, as fast as the machine's many armatures as he took his copious notes, his red eyes darting between the paper and a pair of open books beneath the candle. Hard at work, Figgis looked like any other scholar. It hurt Gilwyn to know what he was really doing.

'Figgis," said Gilwyn, pushing open the door, "I need to speak with you."

The intrusion startled the old man, who looked up with his bloodshot eyes and rasped, "I'm busy."

'Sorry, but it can't wait."

There was no answer from the old man. He glanced down at the note in his hand, his mouth agape. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "No curse."

Gilwyn felt a pang of sadness for his mentor. The striking news had drained the color from his exhausted face. Gilwyn went and took him by the arm, leading him carefully back to his chair. Together they laid Cassandra's note on the desk.

'It's not to you," Gilwyn explained. "Cassandra wrote it for someone else."

Figgis looked up in surprise. "Who?"

'I'll tell you, but not just yet. First, I want to know if what she told me is true. She said you knew everything, Figgis. She said you could explain it to me, and that you could prove her story and identity."

Gilwyn sat down on the edge of the desk. "But I don't need you to prove it, do I? I can tell it's all true just by looking at you."

'It was a secret, Gilwyn. I swore to Akeela I would never tell anyone." Figgis' voice was softer than the candlelight, as though he was speaking the most profound confession. "If I had told you—if I had told anyone—Cassandra would have been at risk."

'So you just let the ruse go on?" asked Gilwyn. "You let the king shut her away like a prisoner? Let everyone in Koth think she was a crone?"

'Don't judge me," said Figgis sharply. "There was no other way. None of us thought it would go on this long. We thoughtFiggis abruptly stopped himself. Gilwyn knew what he'd almost said.

'I know all about the amulets, Figgis. Queen Cassandra showed me the one she wears. She told me you've been looking for the other one for sixteen years."

The old man chuckled. "She's been busy with her stories, hasn't she? Well, I might as well confess.

It's all true, every word of it. She's not lying to you, Gilwyn. She is the queen. And now that you know she's probably told others, as well."

'No, she hasn't. I'm the only one who's even seen her. She contacted me because she needs my help."

'I'm sure," said Figgis. He leaned back miserably. "She needs 'Not now," said Figgis crossly, turning back to his books. The catalog continued to whir. Figgis kept writing, ignoring Gilwyn as he appeared over his shoulder. "Go to your room. I don't need you anymore tonight."

Before Gilwyn had left Queen Cassandra, she had given him a note she had written for Lukien, carefully folded and impressed with a wax seal. Gilwyn took the note from the pocket of his trousers and dropped it squarely onto the desk.

'What's this?" asked Figgis.

It took a moment before he took full notice of the seal. When he saw the mark of Lüria impressed in the wax, his lips pursed. Gilwyn glared at him. He was too angry to be subtle or bullied by his mentor.

Figgis' eyes drifted slowly from the note up to Gil-wyn's face. Something like guilt laced his expression.

'Guess who that's from," said Gilwyn.

Figgis seemed unable to answer. There were only two people allowed to use the royal family's seal, and either one of them meant trouble. Figgis picked up the note but did not open it.

'Tell me," said Figgis softly. "Did Akeela give you this?"

'No. Guess again."

Figgis rose immediately and shut the door, leaving only the single candle to light the room. "Tell me where you got this," he insisted.

'You know where I got it, Figgis. I've been to Lionkeep."

'It wasn't Akeela?" asked Figgis.

'No," said Gilwyn. "It wasn't Akeela."

Still Figgis wouldn't admit the truth. "Who, then? One of the king's men? General Trager?"

'Figgis, it was her," said Gilwyn ruthlessly. "Queen Cassandra."

Figgis looked stricken. "Great Fate…" He fell back against the door, staring at Gilwyn through the darkness. "How?"

'I met her. I saw her the night of the moon shadow and I've spoken to her since. She told me everything, Figgis."

Figgis was incredulous. "You looked at her?"

Gilwyn nodded. "There's no curse," he said simply. He sighed, a sound that carried all his hurt and confusion. "Oh, Figgis. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

me. But you, well, who knows. I would never risk that. You don't know the lengths Akeela would go to." He shook his head regretfully, but then suddenly brightened. "You say there's no curse anymore?"

Gilwyn shrugged. "That's what the queen said. I first saw her days ago, and she's perfectly fine. The amulet is still keeping her safe. She said her illness hasn't troubled her."

'Remarkable. And she's still young?"

'Oh, yes. Young enough to fool me into thinking she was a housekeeper!" joked Gilwyn.

'She was very beautiful," Figgis remarked. "Still is, I'm sure." Suddenly his eyes narrowed on Gilwyn.

"Is she the one you've been heartsick over?"

Gilwyn felt his face flush. "Yes," he said. The admission set Figgis into hysterics. "I don't think it's that funny!" snapped Gilwyn. "She looked my age! How was I suppose to know she was the queen?"

Figgis swiped tears away with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he managed between chortles. "You're right. It's not funny."

But he wouldn't stop laughing. "Ah, forgive me, boy," he said at last. "But it's the first time I've laughed in days. You're right, though, it isn't a joke. The truth is, you still don't know everything."

'Oh, but I do," said Gilwyn. "You're going back to Jador to find the other amulet. You think it's somewhere in Grimhold."

Figgis frowned. "My, you have learned a lot. Did Cassandra tell you that?"

'Yes, but she didn't have to, not really. I knew something was going on when I heard you arguing with General Trager. That's why Cassandra wants to find Lukien. She wants him to come back and rescue her from Lionkeep. She plans on leaving with him to warn the Jadori before Akeela's army leaves."

'Great Fate," groaned Figgis. "This just keeps getting worse and worse."

'Well someone has to do something," said Gilwyn. "Otherwise the Jadori will be slaughtered."

'Don't you think I know that? What do you think I've been telling Akeela?" Frustrated, Figgis pushed his books aside, your help to escape, right? This note—I'm supposed to give it to someone to help her?"

Gilwyn smiled. "Figgis, it's not what you think."

'Oh, I'm sure it is. You see, I know everything about Cassandra, too. I've waited for this day for sixteen years. I don't even have to read this note to know what it says. It's for Lukien, isn't it?"

Gilwyn was amazed by the man's seeming clairvoyance. "How did you know?"

'Hmm, I wonder how much the queen actually entrusted to you, Gilwyn. Did she tell you about Lukien?"

'She did. She told me that he was banished, but I already knew that. And she told me that you had gone to Jador with him to find the amulet. She called it the Eye of God. Is that true, Figgis? Did you really go to Jador with Lukien?"

'Yes, believe it or not," said Figgis with a grin. "I was a lot younger then, and in far better shape. But what else did she tell you? Did she tell you that she and Lukien were lovers?"

Gilwyn's eyebrows went up. "Lovers? She said they were friends."

'That's why Lukien was banished," explained Figgis. "He had fallen in love with Cassandra, and she with him. It broke Akee-la's heart when he discovered the truth. And it changed him." The old man fiddled with the inkwell on the desk, studying it with undue care. "He's never been the same, Gilwyn.

Some people think it was the pressures of kingship that drove him mad, but that's not it. He could have handled anything if Lukien and Cassandra had stayed loyal to him. He loved them both, and they betrayed him. That's why he's the way he is. That's why everyone debates his sanity."

There was real sadness in Figgis tone. Gilwyn slid closer to him.

'Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?" he asked. "You could have trusted me. All those times I asked you about the king, you never once told me the truth. You lied to me."

'I had to. I had to protect you. You don't know what Akeela is like, Gilwyn. He's not Akeela the Good anymore. If you knew the truth, you'd be in danger. I'm only safe because Akeela needs sending them tumbling off the desk. "The Jadori are peaceful. Akeela knows that, he just doesn't care. He wants that other amulet, and he'll stop at nothing to find it."

'Well, maybe he's looking in the wrong place." Gilwyn shifted nervously. "I mean, are you really sure it's in Grimhold?"

Figgis fixed him in an insistent glare. "What do you mean?"

'Figgis, I have something to tell you. Promise me you won't get mad."

'I'm already mad, Gilwyn. What is it?"

Gilwyn grimaced. "I think I know where the other amulet is. I think I saw it."

The little color in Figgis' face drained away instantaneously. "What?" He rose from his chair, his gangly shadow falling on Gilwyn like a hawk's. "You saw the other Eye of God? Where?"

'Figgis, calm down," said Gilwyn, putting up his hands. "I'm not even sure it's the same amulet…"

'Where?" Figgis insisted.

'In Koth, about a week ago. When I went missing, remember?"

'I remember. Go on."

'Well, it's hard to say exactly," said Gilwyn. "I'm having trouble recalling everything. But I know there was a woman. And a man, a big fellow. And a lot of light."

'Whoa, slow down. You're not making sense," said Figgis. He guided Gilwyn toward the chair he had vacated. "Now sit down and tell me everything. Don't leave anything out."

Gilwyn sat down, composing his thoughts. It was all such a jumble now. Every time he tried to recall the events in the alley, the memory became more and more clouded.

'It's difficult," he said, shaking his head. "It slips away from me. It won't let me get my hands around it."

'What won't?" asked Figgis.

'My memory. Sometimes I see it clearly, but when I try to talk about it…" Gilwyn snorted in frustration. "Something's wrong with me, I don't know…"

'Gilwyn, I want you to relax," said Figgis gently, "and tell me everything you can remember, all right?"

He knelt down before the boy in the soft candlelight. "Where did you see the amulet?"

'In Koth," Gilwyn repeated.

'With a woman and a man?"

Gilwyn nodded.

'Who were they, do you know?"

'I don't know," said Gilwyn. He closed his eyes, trying to summon a picture of the strangers. All he could remember was that they were very odd looking. "Figgis, I think they may have enchanted me. I can't remember!"

'Easy," bade Figgis. "Try again."

'I can't. Every time I try it gets worse." Gilwyn balled his good hand into a fist, struggling to summon an image of the two in his mind, but the harder he tried the more distorted the images became. He knew he had seen the woman do magic, and he knew that she had helped him. But he felt like an old, senile man suddenly, unable to find his way home. "She's done something to my mind," he said angrily. "She's made me forget."

'You're sure it was a woman?"

'Yes," said Gilwyn. He looked at Figgis pleadingly. "I think it was the Witch, Figgis. The Witch of Grimhold. She was the one with the amulet. But that's all I can remember."

Figgis smiled ever so slightly. "The Witch of Grimhold. Not just a legend after all."

'I saw her, Figgis. I know I did. But I can't remember anything else about her." Gilwyn cursed and covered his face with his hands. "She's bewitched me."

'She doesn't want you to remember her," Figgis surmised. "She wants you to forget so that you can't tell anyone about her."

'Yes," said Gilwyn, nodding. "I think I promised her I wouldn't. I'm not sure. But when I try to speak about it…"

'Gilwyn, look at me."

Gilwyn lowered his hands. Figgis was staring at him, his old eyes blazing in the darkness.

'Watch me closely. Don't look away. Don't even blink."

'What is it?" asked Gilwyn.

'Shhh, don't talk. Just look at me." Figgis' voice took on the regularity of a clock. It was soft, firm, and as clear as a breeze.

'Now, relax. Relax and don't think about anything but my voice."

'All right," said Gilwyn. "Yes___"

'Yes," repeated Figgis. "Good. Now close your eyes."

Gilwyn's eyelids shut before he could even control them. He felt light suddenly, as though he were drifting off to sleep. The humming of the catalog filled his brain, but it did not disturb him. All was tranquil.

Figgis' gentle voice reached him through the darkness.

'Be calm, Gilwyn. Breathe deeply. Nice and regular. Let everything else but my voice fall away.

You're in another place. Nothing can touch you."

'Nothing can touch me," said Gilwyn. The sound of his own voice seemed strange to him. He was exhausted from all that had happened, and the darkness around him felt good. The soft warmth of Figgis'

breath caressed his face. A great and pressing desire for sleep washed over him.

Figgis was talking, repeating his calming words. Gilwyn didn't know what was happening, and he didn't care. It felt wonderfully good to be like this, all alone and perfectly relaxed. He listened to Figgis'

voice as if it was music from heaven.

tablet out for Gilwyn to see. "I wrote it all down, Gilwyn, every word of it. Remarkable!"

The alley, the midget woman with her bodyguard Trog, the glowing amulet and the spirits she had summoned; everything as written in Figgis' tablet.