and Corvidal have at least equalled me in this, and there are still more than a thousand to study. Has it occurred to you that these people have long forgotten the truth of Kuan-Hador?'
'They cannot entirely have forgotten,' said Ustarte. 'Even the name of the land remains similar. We have come across references to demons and monsters, and heroes who fought them. Fragments, mostly, but somewhere there will be a clue.'
'How soon will the gateway begin to open?' he asked her.
'Within days rather than weeks. But the creatures of the mist are already here. The Grey Man sensed their evil.'
'And now the deaths will begin,' said Prial sadly.
'Yes, they will,' she admitted. 'And we must continue our search with hope in our hearts.'
'I am fast losing hope, Ustarte. How many worlds must we see fall before we admit we are too weak to save them?'
The priestess sighed and rose from her chair, the heavy silk gown rustling as she moved. 'This one world did defeat them three thousand years ago. They drove them back through the gateways. Despite the power of their sorcery, and the allies they brought with them, they were beaten back. Even the Kriaz-nor could not save them.'
Prial did not look her in the eyes. 'Five years we have been searching and have found nothing. Now we have - perhaps - a few days. Then they will send an Ipsissimus and he will sense our presence.'
'He is already here,' she said softly.
Prial shivered. 'You have seen him?'
'There is a cloak-spell around him. I cannot see him, but I can sense his power. He is close.'
'Then we must flee while we have the opportunity.'
'He does not yet know we are here, Prial. There is some power left in me. I also know how to cloak our presence.'
He stepped forward, taking her gloved hand in his and raising it to his lips. 'I know that, Ustarte. But you cannot stand against an Ipsissimus. If he has not found us it is because he is not yet looking for us. When he does he will kill us.' Prial began to tremble, and she felt his gloved fingers close tightly about her hand.
She watched him closely, and saw him take a deep, shuddering breath. 'I am calm,' he told her. 'Truly I am.' Then he pulled away from her, embarrassed by his show of weakness. 'These clothes chafe me,' he complained. Opening his robe he pushed it back from his shoulders. Ustarte moved behind him, scratching her fingers through the thick grey fur of his back and shoulders.
His tawny eyes closed, and he grunted with pleasure, his terror subsiding.
But it would return, she knew.
*
Keeva was tense and more than a little angry as she reached the unusual buildings set aside for the Grey Man.
Despite Norda's directions, she had lost herself twice in the maze of corridors and stairs, and had emerged on a lower level, only to see that the building she sought was one storey above and to the right. Climbing a set of stone steps, which cut through a rockery, she finally arrived at the entrance. She stood for a moment, surprised by what she saw.
The Grey Man's dwelling place was set back into the cliff, the stone facing roughly fashioned and blending with the natural rock around it. This made it virtually invisible from the bay side of the palace. It looked stark and unprepossessing - not the home of a rich man at all. Her disquiet grew. Keeva had told the Grey Man she would not be his mistress, but now, within a day, he had summoned her to his rooms. Keeva's anger subsided, and she felt a sudden sadness. For a little while today she had allowed herself to believe she might be happy here. She liked Norda, and the other girls of the team had been friendly. They all spoke highly of old Omri, and the atmosphere among them had been full of good humour. Ah, well, she thought, best get it over. Stepping forward she tapped on the door.
The Grey Man opened it. He was dressed in the same manner as when first she had seen him, dark leggings over riding boots, and a shirt of thin, supple leather. He wore no rings, or chains of