"Hevar," a voice said right by his side. Jedra jumped up and swung around to see a boy a couple years younger than himself standing there, his hands balled into fists and held ready in front of him. Behind him stood four more even younger boys, all in unmistakably aggressive poses. All five wore dark, tight-fitting clothes, making them difficult to see in the dim light.

Jedra hadn't sensed them at all. Of course not-his psionic danger sense was just as dead as all his other abilities. Suddenly sweating, he backed away slowly, hands held out palms-forward in a gesture of peace, and said, "Sorry. I didn't know this was your place. I'll leave." The boy who had spoken said, "Kemali non vanada." His tone of voice made it sound like a command, and sure enough, the others spread out to block Jedra's escape. Jedra had witnessed the same sort of thing before in Urik. He had never had to fight there, though; his danger sense had always warned him in time.

"Look," he said, his voice wavering, "I don't want to fight you. I just want to go home."

The leader of the boys laughed and said, "Delan." He reached out and tugged on the sleeve of Jedra's tunic. The other boys laughed with him. One of the boys who had flanked him said, "Marada delor?" and Jedra turned to say, "Sorry, I don't under-"

The first boy hit him in the left side of the head. Jedra's teeth clacked together, biting into his cheek and tongue, and his ear rang. "Ow!" he shouted, jumping back to avoid another blow, but one of the boys behind him hit him in the side, and another in the back. He whirled around and struck at them, fear making him swing wildly, but his longer arms let him connect solidly with one's chest even so.

"Hooda!" the leader shouted, hitting Jedra in the head again. Jedra spun around and punched him in the nose, two quick, almost instinctive jabs, then he whirled around to face whoever else was close. It was nearly impossible to keep all five boys at bay; they danced forward and back, one or two leaning in and striking while he protected himself from another. Blows fell on him nearly constantly, mostly on the sides and back, but a few landed on his head and face.

His elven ancestry did at least give him the advantage of reach. He didn't know how to fight well, but he was fast, and he could snap a fist in past his attackers' guard without letting them get close enough to return his punches. And now he was getting mad. Through his rising anger he noted with satisfaction that the leader was at least bleeding from both nostrils, even while he tasted blood flowing freely from his own. This couldn't last, though. He couldn't win against five people, even if they were just children.

That realization transformed his anger back into terror. "Help!" he shouted. He looked past the boys to the open grass, but the only person he saw was hurrying away.

His plea brought forth more laughter from the boys. They shouted something, but their words blended together in Jedra's ringing ears. Another fist from the side hit him in the right eye, and his vision on that side burst into a shower of light. Screaming in pain, Jedra kicked out sideways with his right foot and felt it connect solidly with the stomach of the boy who had hit him. Jedra heard the boy go down. He spun around, punching and kicking to drive the others back, then he leaped through the gap he had just opened in their ring.

Only he hadn't hurt the boy on the ground as badly as he'd thought. The boy grabbed Jedra's leg as he jumped over him, and Jedra toppled off balance and fell to the ground. He wrenched his foot free and jumped up to run again, but it was too late. The others had entrapped him again.

And now they were angry. They had just been playing with him before, but he had fought back too well; now the leader reached to his waistband and withdrew from a pocket a dark folding knife, which he snapped open with a practiced flick of his wrist. Jedra heard the snick of four more knives opening. His heart seemed ready to tear itself from his chest. He kicked out frantically at the boy he'd knocked down, trying once again to make an escape, but the boy dodged back, and before Jedra could recover and turn, he felt a sudden burst of searing pain in his left side.

Blood bubbled out through the slash in his tunic. Jedra clasped his hand over the wound, but another hot flare ripped along his right arm, then another in his back. He screamed and kicked out again and again, trying to drive the boys back without exposing his arms or face, but they merely slashed his legs until he could barely stand. Then he saw a silvery blur slide toward his left eye, felt a hot streak of pain slide up his cheek-and his eye went dark.

His right eye gave him only blurred shadows. Jedra kicked and swung his fists blindly, fighting by feel now, but even though he connected again and again, the knives slashed him relentlessly. He felt them plunge deep into his belly and sides, felt them slice his left ear, felt them slam to the hilt in his chest. He didn't even notice when he fell over; his mouth was just suddenly filled with dirt.

Light and noise receded. The fiery knife wounds became mere stings. Jedra knew he was dying.

This is one way to escape, he thought as he felt the final knife slide into his heart. But where do I go from here?

Chapter Nine

The answer to that became apparent a moment later when he opened his eyes to find a blurry Kayan bending over him, one hand held against his forehead and another on his chest. His body still burned with pain, but that was already fading.

He tried to speak, but his tongue was still swollen where he'd bitten it.

Kayan? he mindsent.

Who did you expect? she answered.

I-I didn't expect anyone. I thought I was dead.

So did I. I heard you convulsing, and I came in here to find you bleeding to death. What did you do to yourself?

He tried to sit up, but Kayan pushed him back. Not yet. You're still bleeding. What did you do?

I, um, I went into the other crystal.

You idiot. Jedra felt her anger course down through her arms into him, burning worse than the knife wounds.

"Aaahh!" he cried aloud. Stop it!

Sorry. She took a deep breath, and he felt the soothing flow of her healing power wash through him again. That doesn't explain these wounds, she said.

Jedra's vision cleared, and he saw the scowl on Kayan's face. I was stabbed! he told her. A gang of children attacked me, and I couldn't get away.

Children? she asked contemptuously.

Young boys, he said. The oldest was two or three years younger than me. They were tough enough, though. They surrounded me, and they beat me up, and then they cut me.

What did you do to them? she asked.

Nothing! I was trying to find a way out of there, but nothing I tried would work. I was thinking of what else I could do when they jumped me.

Uh-huh. Kayan obviously didn't believe him. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, and Jedra could see the tendons in her neck. By the dim light coming through the window and the skylight, it looked like late evening-only two days, then, since their ordeal in Yoncalla's world. She still hadn't recovered from her near-starvation there, and here she was trying to heal him.

Stop, he said, trying again to sit up and succeeding this time. You've done enough. I can heal myself from here.

You think so? Kayan tugged open his tunic-bloody, but still in one piece-and pointed to the dozens of red scars crisscrossing his chest. Some of these are deep. I'll say when you 're safe on your own. Now lie back down.

Jedra did as he was told. Kayan rubbed her hands up and down his body, spreading health wherever she touched. While she did, he told her about the crystal world with its tall buildings and its streets full of careening chariots and its millions of people flowing like rivers. Kayan listened to him, but when he wound down she said, I don't know who's crazier, the immortal who lives there or you for going in alone in the first place. I wouldn't believe a word of it if it weren't for these knife wounds.