"Yes, yes." Tarscenian waved away the young man's apologies. "Never mind that. Don't worry. I need your assistance. I was taking an important message to Hederick and lost my balance and fell on this hard corridor. I hit my head, and now, for the life of me, I cannot remember where Hederick's quarters are. Could you direct me?"

The youth, still staring, pointed off to his right. "Cross the main entryway and take the corridor immediately in front of you. The High Theocrat's door will be the third one on your left." The young man resumed chewing. "You're not going to punish me?" he asked hopefully.

Tarscenian was already heading toward the doors to the stairwell. "Why would I punish you, lad?" he said over his shoulder. "You look famished. No one can study well on an empty stomach. Eat up. But hurry, get back to your room, and tell no one." Tarscenian raised a hand to the young man, who dazedly waved back with the hand that held the sausage.

The temple was deserted, except for a few guards posted outside the main doors. In a moment, Tarscenian was at Hederick's portal. The heavy door was locked, of course. Tarscenian knocked quietly. "Your Worship?" he whispered.

Hederick's voice was thick with sleep. "Who is it? Dahos? Is it you?"

"It is …" Tarscenian mumbled something that might

pass as a name. "I have a message."

"Come in, then."

Tarscenian heard the sound of soft footsteps, then the bolts clicked aside.

Tarscenian waited for the footsteps to recede, then he slipped through the doorway. He saw Hederick silhouet shy;ted on the bed, lying down again, a fire burning in the hearth behind him despite the summer heat.

"What is your message, priest?" the High Theocrat asked sleepily.

"It is… it is a written message. It was left at the gate. I did not know if it was urgent, so…" Tarscenian fumbled in his pockets as though he indeed carried a scroll with a message for the High Theocrat.

"Put it on my writing table, then. And leave me. Lock the door on your way out."

"Yes, Your Worship." Tarscenian pretended to lay something on the table. Then he stepped to the door and quietly opened and closed it, remaining inside. He stood in the flickering half-darkness, not moving at all. Light from Solinari streamed through gaps in a shutter.

Soon Hederick's breathing evened out. Tarscenian stepped to the bed. The religious leader's face was slack with slumber. His round arms lay straight down at his sides. And around his neck was the thong and its leather-wrapped treasure.

Tarscenian reached for the Diamond Dragon.

A spear nudged his back. A lamp flared. Hederick sat up, laughing, and Tarscenian saw himself surrounded by a half-dozen guards, plus Dahos. In a moment, he was disarmed and held securely.

Hederick chortled, rubbing his hands together. "I have lived decades for this moment," he crowed. "You sought to steal Sauvay's gift, did you, Tarscenian? By the New Gods, I will use that selfsame gift to destroy you!"

The High Theocrat unwrapped the leather.

Then he cried out in shock. He and Tarscenian stared in dismay at the plain gray stone in Hederick's palm.

It was Tarscenian who first remembered the figure of a kender bent over Hederick's body in the western court shy;yard. And here he thought the kender had given the arti shy;fact back. He began to chuckle, then laugh out of control.

"I will kill you for this, sinner," Hederick snapped. He rapped out orders. "Dahos, we will reconsecrate the temple tomorrow morning. At the dawn service." He con shy;tinued speaking over Dahos's protests that there wasn't enough time. "The highlight of the ceremony will be the execution of a false Seeker priest."

* * * * *

"By the gods, Tarscenian is doomed," Olven whispered. "All right, Marya. I am with you."

The woman scribe sprang down from the stool and rushed to his side, but the dark apprentice held up one hand. "I will do it, Marya. Not you."

"Why take that upon yourself?" she demanded. "It was my idea."

"You may have expressed it first, but it was in my mind from the first atrocity I recorded. The man is evil."

'"But…" Marya's sentence trailed off unfinished. What did it matter who changed Hederick's history, she thought, as long as someone did?

Olven took a deep breath and picked up his quill again. At that moment, however, a rested, replenished Eban entered the Great Library and stepped smartly up to their shared desk. Marya frowned, but stifled a groan.

"1 thought you'd want a rest," the young apprentice said to Olven. "I'm anxious to get back to this history to see what hap shy;pens. Has Hederick been vanquished yet?"

Olven and Marya exchanged glances, their faces all the more tired-looking next to Eban's youthful enthusiasm. "I have a bit more to write," Olven said at last, "and then you may take my place."

"What happened?" Eban asked, finally taking in their glum expressions.

"Tarscenian's been captured," Marya said curtly. "Let Olven finish."

Olven closed his eyes, as though he were going into a trance. Then he opened them, and only Marya could tell that the reverie was a fraud. Eban edged between the other two to see the words as they appeared beneath Olven's pen.

"Suddenly, Hederick clasped his hand to his chest, cried out, and collapsed," Olven wrote. "By the time his aides reached him, the High Theocrat was dead."

"By the gods!" Eban whispered. "Hederick has… ?"

The three stared at Olven's words. Abruptly, tears glittered in Marya's eyes, and she reached past Eban to put a hand on Olven's suddenly shaking shoulder. "Olven," she said. "I think we've made a…"

Olven cried out at that instant. The quill was scratching again on the parchment, but, judging from the writer's agonized face, not by his own volition. Quickly, the quill's tip went back shy;ward over the sentences. As it passed over them, the words dis shy;appeared. The parchment appeared as it had before Olven's false trance. The long white feather floated to the library floor, but none of the three paid it any attention.

Marya was the first to speak. "Are you hurt, Olven?"

Tears were streaming down the apprentice's face, but he shook his head. Gently, Marya coaxed him to his feet and, half-sup shy;porting him, guided him out of the library. Eban stared, goggle-eyed. The red-haired apprentice hesitated before he moved into Olven's place and took up a new quill.

* * * * *

In his cell in the depths of the Great Library, Astinus nodded as he read the new passage on the page of his own history.

"And at that moment, two apprentice scribes in the Great Library at Palanthas attempted to alter the course of history. However, they soon learned-as had countless Great Library apprentices before them-that one can change history only by living it, not by wishing it."

Chapter 23

One moment, Mynx and her centaur were speeding along over the forest floor with the rest of Phytos's force. The next moment, they had barged pell-mell into a sea of shouting humans, goblins, and hobgoblins.

"What is it?" the kender shouted from his own mount as the centaurs scrambled to assess what had happened.

Mynx recognized several figures. "It's the slave train. They must have stopped for the night."

"What are they doing north of Solace?" Kifflewit demanded, being suddenly of a decidedly practical turn of mind. "There's nothing up this way! See, I have the maps to prove it…" He rummaged in his pockets.

"I don't know," Mynx yelled back. "Maybe they're heading for the Straits of Schallsea." Or maybe the rumors of armies to the north were true, and the relocation of the slaves was tied in with the military movements, she thought. She would not be surprised if Hederick was cooperating with vermin armies whose rampages had sent all those refugees pouring into Solace.