Roaring pinwheels of green flame were his reply, snarling out of the empty air around her slim fingers to fly at him, spinning and expanding.

Rammast stood unmoving as they reached him and burst-and for the briefest of moments Aerindel thought she could see their dying flashes through him. Then he yawned and stepped forward again.

"Your fame is not undeserved," he said lightly, dismissive boredom in his tone. "Impressive. Very impressive." And he opened his hand.

Something small fluttered from it: a serpent with wings. It circled his head once as Aerindel quickly cast another spell, and then it flew toward her.

A stream of lightning flashed at Rammast. Two crackling arcs curled aside to meet the flying thing, but expired in brief halos as they encountered some sort of shield around it.

The Lord of Grand Thentor stood immobile, still smiling, as her lightning lashed him. Aerindel saw the snake swooping at her, and ducked away-but it followed, eyes bright and fangs agape. It was glistening, wet with slime, and mottled like an uncooked sausage.

She hissed a quick magical shield as she retreated from it-but the very air shattered with screams and flashing radiances as the flying monster darted right through her magic.

Aerindel covered her face as it roared down at her- and her cry was answered by the crack of a crossbow, fired from a high balcony.

The Lady of Dusklake rolled and hit out at the serpent. Above, she saw a crossbow bolt halt in midair, catch fire from end to end with blue flame that did not consume it, and spin around to race back the way it had come.

There was a despairing shout an instant before it struck, and blue fire burst forth in a blast that outlined the bones of the Duskan warrior-before it hurled them, fleshless and glowing, around the room.

Aerindel felt a painful tug on her scalp. Something was pulling her hair-oh, gods, no!

Rammast smiled down at her. "It's eating your hair, Lady… and mind: you're getting your best gown all dirty, rolling around like that. Show a little dignity, now: come up at least to your knees. My little pet will take care of your gown after it's bared your scalp. And then you'll be wearing shoes, too, won't you? It should be a good while before it gets around to eating your eyelashes."

Aerindel screamed, rolling frantically in an attempt to dislodge the thing. It was leaving a wet, slimy trail through her hair, and went on biting and tearing as if she'd done nothing, even when she drew her belt-knife and stabbed it repeatedly. It was a thing of magic, immune to her steel.

Rammast smiled indulgently at her and then strolled around the room, looking critically at the tapestries and statues. 'Tour father's taste wasn't as bad as I'd heard," he said grudgingly, ignoring Aerindel's sobs.

She frantically rose to cast a purging spell on herself. "Get out of my house? she snarled at him as she finally felt the gnawing serpent fade away to nothingness. "You cold-blooded bastard.1"

Rammast turned to meet her furious gaze, shook his head with a disapproving sigh, and opened his hand again. Another serpent flew from his hand-and as she screamed in despair, he chuckled heartily and strolled in her direction.

"Perhaps your gown first, and the hair later," he suggested. "I suspect you're the superior of any of these rather contorted maids on pedestals your father collected. Was your mother particularly ugly, or did he just have odd tastes?"

Through tears of utter fury, Aerindel spat her last battle spell, sending a ravening purple cloud of flesh-eating radiance in his direction.

"Oooh," Rammast said in appreciation. "My, my." And he faded away, leaving her spell with nothing to slay. It rolled out over the lake, vainly seeking something to do to death.

Abruptly the darkly handsome Lord of Grand Then-tor was standing beside her, a mocking smile on his face, as his second serpent flashed down over her shoulder to sink its fangs into her bodice.

Aerindel screamed.

"On your knees, Lady," Rammast suggested gently. "Remember?"

He waved a hand, and she felt an unseen force pressing her down. With a snarl she hissed her last dispel, wiping it away along with the sharp-fanged serpent.

He smiled even more broadly, and opened his hand again. Another serpent flapped its wings in his palm, eyeing her with glittering amusement.

"Perhaps one eyelash," her foe said calmly, "to remember me by."

And as the serpent sprang from his hand, Aerindel found that she had no spells left. Clapping her hands protectively over eyes that streamed tears of rage and despair, she snarled a certain word.

On the wall beside the shattered window, the Storm-staff flashed into life-and lightning lashed forth like great tentacles to encircle the Thentan intruder, and drag him up into the air.

Even as he struggled in the grip of its awesome energies and the white fire of its fury burst forth from his skin, Rammast smiled down at her. "So that is how paltry your spells are-and those are the words that awaken your father's staff. My thanks, Aerindel. You've been most helpful-if far more feeble a foe than I thought. Don't bother taking your own life; I shall merely bring you back from death to serve me."

The lightning was beginning to tear him apart now, but the lord of Grand Thentor showed no pain as he added, "You could fix your hair and change your gown, though. I will come for you."

And then, with a last sneering smile, his false body faded away, leaving her lightning nothing to ravage.

The Lady of Dusklake sent the lightning racing out over the lake before it could do any harm to the hall or any of her folk, and then went to her knees and wept for a long time in the shattered chamber.

When she could weep no more, Aerindel fell silent and threw herself full-length onto the floor. Lying with the smooth stone cold and hard against one cheek, she murmured the words that would bring the comforting length of the Stormstaff into her hands.

It flew to her, and she clutched it like a drowning sailor clings to a spar as she went down into haunted darkness…

"L-Lady? Lady Aerindel?" one of the chambermaids called tentatively.

The lady who lay curled up like a child moved her head and murmured something.

"Lady Aerindel? Great Lady… are you well?"

Abruptly the wild-haired figure in the tattered black gown sat upright and stared into the moonlight. The staff in her hands thrummed once, and tugged at her grasp.

Aerindel screamed in anguish. Rammast must be calling it from afar!

It was her last weapon… her last hope. The staff moaned and wrenched at her numbed fingers again, and Aerindel came to her feet with another raw scream, wrapping herself around it.

She stood panting in the pitiless moonlight, staring around the ruined hall and wondering just what she could do against the ruthless Lord of Grand Thentor. The staff snarled against her bosom again, and Aerindel snarled back at it in frustration.

In the brief silence that followed, she heard the frightened sobs of the fleeing chambermaid echoing back to her down one of the kitchen passages, and drew in a long, shuddering breath.

She had fought, and been overmastered with contemptuous ease. There were no hidden tricks or lurking spells left to her; she was doomed, and Dusklake with her.

As her father had once said to an excited Dabras, looking down from the wind-lashed top of Mount Glim-merdown at a battle in the pass below, "It's all over now, but the praying."

But the praying…

Well, what else could she do?

Aerindel tucked the Stormstaff under her chin and rushed from the hall, padding through the darkened passages of the castle toward a certain dusty and neglected back stair. Many of the torches were unlit, and there were neither guards nor servants to be seen. Had they all fled? Or had some dark magic sent by Rammast slain them all?