Stars twinkled softly and endlessly on the ceiling above her his creations, of course. Another spell she'd meant to ask him about, and never remembered to. Another magic and secret that'd be lost forever with him if he perished.

Lying alone on the round bed in the topmost room of Elminster's Tower in Shadowdale, the Simbul stared unhappily up at the stars so close above her until they melted and glimmered in a fresh flood of tears.

"Mystra," she whispered into the darkness, "preserve him! Oh, goddess, if you love me-!"

Somehow she'd moved from the table to her knees on the hard floor beside it, worn fur rugs thrust out of the way against the wall. Two old, thick candle stubs stood here, stuck to the floor by their own melted, puddled wax... evidence of a long-ago prayer to Mystra. Elminster must have knelt naked between them just as she was doing now to make his plea to the goddess.

Sobbing, Alassra Silverhand made fresh use of the candles. She lit them by the smallest of cantrips and by the fire of her will. As their flames rose up, she held herself so that her tears dripped into each flame, and then said fiercely,

"Mother Mystra, Lady over and of all who work magic, hear my prayer, I beg of you. I will do anything you command- anything.yielding my life, my magic, my realm, my health or looks or wits, anything, if you'll give me magic enough now to rescue my Elminster. Oh, Mystra, hear me!"

Suddenly, without a sound or a trace of smoke, the candles both went out. The fine hair all over the Simbul's body stood on end as sudden power awakened within her and flowed through her.The only light in the darkness was a flickering blue flame-coming from her own mouth. Her breath was afire.

Warrior of the Seven, the voice of Mystra said out of the darkness all around her, I am here, and heed your cry. Hearken to what we both must do...

***

Something moved ahead, among rocks and stunted trees. Their boughs had been broken off repeatedly by passing devils for moments of sport, and they bristled with thorns.

Elminster was whole again, though he took care to shuffle along slowly, hunched over, and slump into motionless-ness whenever a devil flew past. He was somewhere on Avernus, he knew not where-but it was far from any of the gates out of Hell he knew of. Almost all of them were in large, closely guarded fortresses. Of the two out in the desolation of Avernus, one was behind a bloodfall-a waterfall of blood, somewhere in Artkan's Rift-and the other was atop Tabira's Spire, where of old an erinyes had been impaled for disobedience and died pleading for mercy. Her bones still clung to the shunned rock, and the gate out worked only for someone touching one of them and saying the right words.

At least he remembered those. Now all he had to do, naked and bereft of spells, was find the bloodfall or the spire, elude whatever guardians or malicious wandering devils saw him, and-

Something moved again in the rocks ahead. It might have been a woman-if human women had been twelve feet tall, ruby-skinned, and had horses' heads instead of breasts. Those strange-looking appendages snapped their teeth at him as their owner stepped out to block his way. Her shapely legs ended in cloven hooves, a slender barbed tail curling in her wake. Her bat wings folded into a huge single sail of flesh rising high above her head. That head looked human except for the delicate fangs and pupilless eyes like two white flames.

Her voice was low and husky as she raised her arms in warning-arms that sported rows of cruel barbs-and asked sharply, "Who-no, what are you?"

"What I appear to be," El answered her. "A human."

An eyebrow lifted, and a slender, barbed tongue licked those dainty fangs eloquently.

"No," the Old Mage told her, gathering silver fire within him in case he'd need it very soon and very swiftly, "ye don't want to do that. I am-I belong to Nergal, and any attack on me will draw him to this place.That's not worth a few mouthfuls of raw, tasteless human."

His captor's name had evoked a hiss.The she-devil drew back between the rocks once more.

El went on down the hillside and was two steps past the rocks when the outcast devil's voice came again."You have no magic?"

Elminster turned around slowly, and spread his empty j arms. "No. Do I look as if I do?"

"I am so hungry," the voice came back plaintively. "Nergal will just have to get over your loss."

And the devil sprang.

El sat down abruptly, feet together, then sprang off to one I side in a frog-like hop.The pouncing devil crashed onto the rocks beyond and skidded to a spitting, snarling halt.

The hillside was steep and bare.The only cover was the cluster of rocks and thorn-trees where the devil had been. Grimly El leaped and trotted toward it. Wings clapped behind him, and he sprang to one side again, dodging around a sparlike boulder.

The she-devil hissed close by his ear as she passed by again, missing with her reaching hands. "Stay still, human, and I'll make your death less painful!"

"Now that's an enticing offer," Elminster replied mockingly, spinning away from another grab. "Almost had me with that one!"

Snarling, the she-devil bounded into the air and glided after him.

He ducked into the devil's lair-a dark cleft between the rocks where the floor was littered with old, gnawed bones. Tumbled rocks formed a roof of sorts. Once he was inside, and she followed, there'd doubtless be no way out that her body wasn't blocking.

On he went, into stinking darkness.

With a little laugh of triumph the outcast devil folded her wings and fbllowed."Now you're mine," she breathed.

El had backed as far in as the narrowing rocks would let him.The only light came from the white flames of her eyes. The horse heads of her bosom snapped at him as she advanced, arms spread wide to prevent his escape.

"To raise a very original question," El said calmly, "Who and what are ye?"

"Marane is my name," she said, drawing closer. "Marane the Hungry!"

Elminster tensed, bending low. He had to unleash silver fire fleetingly when a spell-scrying Nergal wouldn't be able to get a good look at what he was doing, so their bodies had to be pressed almost together. Somehow he had to avoid those fangs above, and those snapping jaws lower down. A stone rolled under his foot, and he stumbled and almost fell.

Marane hissed again, but no jaws closed on him.

El looked up-and saw faint glows above and behind him. They illuminated the body of the outcast devil, as she arched over him to reach the stone and set it back in place.

"What're those lights?" he asked, feigning wonder, as he ducked low and turned so his shoulder brushed against a shapely devil leg.

"Things of magic," she snapped, "seized from other prey down the years. A pity you carry nothing to add to it.But enough!"

Marane turned then, extending a long-nailed hand like a claw right at his eyes-

El thrust his hand up along her leg and gave her silver fire.

"Quite so," he agreed coolly, as her entire body con-vulsed and sprang upward, smashing her head on the^;J rocks overhead.

Smoke curled out of Marane's mouth. She tumbled limply to the floor, and her eyes went dull. Something moved in Elminster's mind, and he kept the image of Marane's reaching talons vivid in his thoughts.Trying not to think or look at what he was doing, he clawed blindly. at the stone until he felt it roll. He thrust his hand in amid the cold glows beyond.

Something among them felt like a wand. He snatched it, let its fading enchantment tell him its triggering word and nature-a lightning-wand, thank Mystra andTymora both-thrust it into Marane's gaping mouth, gathered silver fire to keep himself alive if need be, and activated it.