It wasn't like Gregory to be so direct, but Magnus had heard love could cause such changes. " 'Allouette' was also the name of the woman who recruited me into SCENT, brother—not entirely by reason alone."

"Her beauty?" Gregory asked.

Magnus nodded. "I would scarcely say I was swept away, but I was very much aware of the attraction. Finister did that much for me, at least—that I became very slow to fall in love."

"Which is to say that you never have." For the moment, Gregory was full of sympathy. "I cannot tell you how deeply Allouette regrets what she did to you, brother. Whenever she thinks of it, she is filled with anguish again."

"Then it is a wonder she can bear to look upon my face." Magnus smiled. "This scarcely needed telling, Gregory—but I am glad that you did."

"I do not merely show concern," Gregory said anxiously. "I am concerned for your emotional welfare, brother."

"I have always managed to keep my wits about me," Magnus hedged, "so I was well aware that the other Allouette meant to use me and was enraged when I disobeyed orders and did what was right for the people of the planet I was supposed to subvert, rather than what was right for SCENT."

"So," Gregory said softly, "two women to whom you were attracted, hurt and abused you. No wonder you chilled on the sound of the name."

Magnus nodded. "But it is certainly no fault of your bride's, nor do I hold it against her."

"But her actions toward you ten years ago?"

"I can forgive, Gregory, and have. In time, I am sure I will forget them completely."

After a moment, Gregory nodded, though reluctantly, then sat forward, suddenly even more intent. "Understand, though, brother—even were you to attempt to command us, neither of us would obey."

"Then I shall give no orders."

Gregory's brows drew together; his intensity sharpened. "Do not think to use us as your magical tools, Magnus. You cannot know anything of our research."

"Absolutely nothing," Magnus admitted cheerfully, "and for that reason, I would not dream of telling either of you what to study and what not."

"And would not ask us to study certain uses of magic for the Crown?" Gregory asked suspiciously.

"I think the Crown can do its own asking," Magnus said. "After all, you are not exactly unknown to our sovereign and her husband, not to mention their younger son. Is your friendship with Diarmid still close?"

"We have drifted somewhat apart," Gregory admitted, "though we still share the occasional game of chess."

Magnus nodded. "Then I am sure he could mention any problems his parents thought needed investigation before he said 'Check.'"

Gregory smiled. "Before the game, rather. Studying the next move would drive it completely out of his head."

"Ever the scholar," Magnus said, amused, "both of you. I wonder how he manages as Duke of Loguire."

"Quickly, as I understand it," Gregory said. "He is very efficient, clearing up administrative details before midday so that he can spend the afternoons in study."

Magnus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And his peasants are none the worse for it?"

"He has an excellent steward," Gregory said, "who is always out among the people—but I suspect Diarmid's tenure lacks the personal touch."

Resolved that easily, the conversation passed to updating Magnus on events in the kingdom, and Gregory finally accepted tea. When the cup was empty and he rose to go, though, he paused at the door to look back, suddenly intent again. "I have your word on it, brother? That you shall not try to command us, nor to come between us?"

"My word of honor," Magnus said gravely, "and I shall swear an oath to it if you feel the need."

Gregory gazed into his eyes a few seconds, then nodded. "I do not think we will. Good night, brother." He went out the door.

Magnus stood immobile a minute, then lowered himself carefully into his chair and placed his hands on his knees. After a few more minutes, he tilted his head back against the upholstery and closed his eyes.

ROD LET FESS choose their path and concentrated all his attention on pumping strength back into that withered arm. Its maiming had to have been an illusion, though a very powerful one; whatever latent telepath had unwittingly created Decay to embody his worst fears, had made it projective, too, and if the mind could be convinced that the body was wasting, why, waste it would.

So Rod's first purpose was to convince himself, very thoroughly, that his arm was sound and healthy. He fell into the trance he had learned early in his training as a secret agent, working downward to the bedrock of his beliefs and discovering anew that, even at the most fundamental level, he knew Decay to be only an illusion. Unfortunately, all his emotions between that foundation and the superstructure of intellect believed the spirit to be real.

So Rod began to work on convincing himself that the illusion was only that, an illusion, and nothing real—further, that his arm hadn't really withered, that the illusion was only an extremely convincing projection.

When morning came, his arm was whole again, and he was so exhausted that he barely managed to spread out his blanket roll before he fell on it and slept.

MAGNUS WAS STILL sitting in the same posture when Alea strode into the room. "Are you still poking into mouldering books, Gar? It's high time …" She broke off, staring at him, reading the great soul-weariness of his posture. She studied him a moment, then brought the straight chair from the desk to sit beside him. Gently, she covered his hand with her own.

Magnus opened his eyes, saw her, and slowly lifted his head.

"As bad as that?" Alea asked softly.

Magnus studied her a moment, then glanced at the door; it swung to and closed quietly. He turned back to Alea and acknowledged, "As bad as that." He shook his head in exasperation. "They've all grown up; their powers are mature. They're equal to any threat. Nothing can stand against them—if they all work together!"

"Then the first thing any enemy will do, will be to try to split them apart."

"Oh, I don't think he'd have to—they're bidding to do a fair job of it themselves!" Magnus sighed as he leaned his head back again. "Why do they all think I'm going to try to boss them around?"

Alea chose her words carefully. "Perhaps because you did when you all were little."

Magnus lifted his head, frowning at her. "How did you know?"

"I didn't; I guessed," Alea answered. "Why else would they all be so worried about it now?"

"Because Dad asked me to promise to take care of Gramarye and its people." Magnus shook his head. "Whyever would he do that?"

"Because he knows you can," Alea said instantly, "knows you can fight off any enemies that come, from inside or from outside. But bossing people isn't your style, Gar." She smiled ruefully. "No, I suppose I should say, 'Magnus' now, shouldn't I?"

"You shall call me anything you please." Gar locked gazes with her a moment, covering her hand with his. Then he looked away with a sardonic smile. "But as to bossing people, I've done my share on occasion."

"Yes, but only when there was no one local you could maneuver into it."

"Well, of course." Gar frowned. "After all, they were going to be there for their whole lives. I wasn't."

"You will now." Instantly Alea regretted saying it.

Magnus sat still and somber, gazing at the window. "I suppose I shall," he said at last. "Not so bad a thing, after all. I've longed for home these last ten years. Now I shall have it again." He turned to her with concern. "But you won't."

"I don't have one," Alea snapped.

"I could take you back." With a sudden heave, Magnus pushed himself up. "Back to Midgard to stay there with you—and leave this nest of infighting factions and jealous siblings behind!"