Geste nodded. “Do it,” he said.

“Yes, sir. The signals from Lady Sheila and Lady Sunlight have been lost due to interference, but at last contact both were in their usual excellent health and had just entered the High Castle in the company of Rawl the Adjuster and Brenner of the Mountains."

Bredon marvelled; how could the mysterious invisible talking thing possibly have learned that so quickly? He had heard nothing, seen nothing; the thing-spirit, familiar, whatever it was-had simply pulled its answer out of nowhere.

He would have guessed that the spirit was just making up its answers, had not Geste put so much faith in them.

If it was right, then Lady Sunlight was in danger, and he felt a coldness in his veins at the thought.

“So they are in there,” Geste said.

“Yes, sir."

“Thaddeus is endangering them. This is serious.” He paused to think. “Khalid lives closest to Thaddeus; put me through to him,” he ordered after a moment's consideration.

The floater paused before replying, “The intelligences at the Tents of Gold report that Khalid departed seventy hours ago, in response to a shielded call, bound for Fortress Holding. He has not returned and his present whereabouts are unknown."

Bredon saw, in the light from the “window,” that the Trickster was shaken by this news; no trace of his customary smile remained.

“What does Mother say?"

“No signal is being received from Khalid. At last contact he was entering Fortress Holding, which is heavily shielded against all signals, including the mother ship's telemetry."

“Try Madame O,” Geste said.

“The intelligences at the House of Delights have been told not to converse with me,” the floater said, “but they will acknowledge that Madame O is not at home. The mother ship reports loss of contact upon entrance to Fortress Holding, sixty-one hours ago."

“Damn! That's everyone west of the mountains!” Geste exclaimed. “What's Thaddeus doing?"

“I don't know, sir. I would point out that the Ice House lies west of the mountains."

Geste waved that away. “I suppose it does, but it's so far north it doesn't matter. Ah… get me Lord Grey."

Bredon marvelled at how ready Geste was to call upon so many of the Powers-but then, why shouldn't he? He was a Power himself!

Bredon shivered slightly. He had very little idea of what was happening, but he knew that he had somehow gotten himself involved, at least peripherally, in affairs far beyond his understanding. He had simply asked to talk to Lady Sunlight, and now he was tangled up in some sort of widespread dispute involving at least half a dozen of the Powers! Worst of all, Lady Sunlight herself was in some sort of danger. The image of her standing in the meadow as he had seen her, her multicolored dress drifting in a wind that he had not felt, filled his thoughts. He shivered again at the thought of any harm befalling anything so beautiful.

Geste was thinking aloud. “Khalid, O, Brenner, Sheila, Rawl…"

A face appeared in the air before them, a dark weatherbeaten face, half-hidden behind a bristling black beard and shoulder-length grey-streaked hair. It seemed to glow fiercely in contrast with the darkness of the protective field. Bredon started, but realized quickly that this was not an actual head floating unsupported, but an apparition or illusion of some sort.

“What do you want, Geste?” the face demanded.

Geste's relief at the sight of this forbidding visage was ludicrously obvious.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Grey, but I am inordinately glad to see you there. It appears that we may have a problem developing."

Lord Grey's disembodied head eyed the Trickster suspiciously. “What sort of a problem?"

“I don't really know-at least, I don't know what started it. Thaddeus appears to be attacking Brenner-seriously attacking him. Take a look for yourself."

Lord Grey seemed to glance away, then looked back at Geste and Bredon. “Is this one of your stunts, Geste? Where would Thaddeus get all those drones? You've been playing with images again, I suppose. Well, I'm not interested."

“No, Grey, I haven't…"

Geste was speaking to empty air.

“Damn!” he said. “Get me Leila."

“The intelligences at the Mountain of Fire tell me that Leila does not wish to hear anything you have to say,” the floater replied.

Bredon wondered who Leila might be. Another Power, presumably, but one he did not recall ever having heard of. This was all proving very educational; when he got home-if he got home-he would have stories to tell for the rest of his life. He might well become a storyteller without even trying.

He listened with interest as Geste continued calling.

Chapter Eight

“…still he refused to give up. He chased her ever deeper into the forest, never gaining a centimeter, but never quite losing sight of her, either.

"At last he collapsed, exhausted, beside a river. He lay there gasping for breath, dipping his hands in the water and cooling his face with them. And the mysterious woman appeared among the trees on the far side, calmly watching him.

"'Hello,’ she called to him. ‘Were you looking for me?'

"He just stared, too tired to call out to her, and nodded weakly.

"'Well,’ she said, ‘here I am. Come and get me.'

"'Witch,’ he called, drawing strength from his anger, ‘you know I haven't the strength to swim the river!'

"'Then I suppose I must come to you,’ she said, and she rose up into the air and transformed herself into a bird. And in that form, she flew across the stream to him, and then transformed herself back into a woman.

"When he saw this magical shape-shifting, Harlen knew that this was no mere witch-woman. Even the most powerful witches in legend needed spells and chants and potions for the very simplest of transformations, and surely, to take the form of a bird cannot be simple. Harlen knew that he faced either a Power or a demon. And when she knelt down over him, her long red hair brushing his chest, he was afraid, and called out, ‘Get away, demon!'

"'Demon!’ she said, as she stepped back in surprise. ‘You think I'm a demon?'

"'What else could you be?’ Harlen asked.

"She laughed, and said, ‘Oh, I can be anything I please, anything at all. Shall I be a demon for you? Do you want a demon lover?’ And she was suddenly a demon, three meters tall and scaly black, her eyes pits of fire and her fingers curving talons. ‘Or something more comely?’ And she was a woman again, but a different woman, tall and slender, no longer naked, but wearing a gown of spun silver embroidered in gold. ‘Or would you prefer a simple companion, and not a lover at all?’ And suddenly a man much like himself stood there, clad in buckskin, smiling down at him.

"'Who are you?’ he asked, terrified.

"She did not answer immediately, but returned to her own shape, naked once more, and looked down at him. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘if you're too tired to swim the river, then I can't hope for much from you as a lover, can I? And if you think me a demon, you probably don't want me at all. I suppose I should just go and leave you alone, shouldn't I?'

"Before he could answer, she vanished, disappeared into the empty air.

"Her voice lingered, though, and said, ‘As for who I am, I'm called Imp, but I'm not a demon at all.’ And then she laughed, and her laughter gradually faded away until there was nothing left at all.

"And although he was tired he got to his feet and ran after her, first one way, then another, looking for some trace of her. But he found nothing, and he never saw her again, though he looked for her many a time, spending many, many wakes and even whole seasons wandering through the forest in search of her…"

– from the tales of Atheron the Storyteller