the revelation set into the far wall.
Set her down there. No. The head at the other end.
Pol placed Taisa's body atop a slanting stone slab, her feet at the higher end. Her head fell into place within a wide channel which had been cut into the hard, gray surface. Automatically, he adjusted her long, simple, blue garment about her. As he did, he noticed a wide, shallow basin below the end of the groove. A dagger of black stone lay upon its rim. These things registered but made no real impression upon him, for his attention was focussed elsewhere.
He stared at the wall before him, at the great double doors set within it. Perspiration dampened his brow, and his hands possessed a slight tremor as he moved away from the woman and the stone, staring.
They were the Gate of all the forgotten dreams which fell like bright cloaks upon him now.
He drew nearer. The doors were solid, massive, iron-bound, and of a dark, metallic-looking wood. There seemed to be no locking mechanism, no handles, only the intermittently spaced rings.
Carved and burned into the Gate in an elaborate coiled pattern, rising from the base to the midpoint, was the form of an enormous serpent, drawing itself high above a stylized line of waves. Three heavy spikes had been driven into it--one at the neck, one at the tail and one at the body's middle.
Then, raising his gaze to the top of the frame and above it, he beheld the familiar form of a great, black bird- like thing, wings outspread, carved into the rock. And into this figure, also, spikes had been driven--one into either wing.
Pol took another step and halted, breathing heavily. He was again Prodromolu, Opener of the Way, coursing the heavens of Qod, while below him, mounting steadily upward from the depths, the serpent Talkne moved upon the final circuit of her eons-long journey in search of him. Nyalith shrieked a warning which shattered mountains and revealed the secrets at their hearts. Wheeling, he dove toward calm sea-surface....
He came to himself once more, remembering the Keys and the dark god's promise to lead the people from the devastated land, to merge that place with another by opening the way between the worlds. And the Keys...
The Keys!
The statuettes were the Keys. Strangely living Keys... And--
He lowered his eyes.
Yes ...
Incised into the floor and painted in fading yellow, red and blue was a large, irregularly shaped diagram. A section of it swept back to encompass the slab upon which Taisa lay; another portion projected far forward, touching the Gates' heavy frame at the left. A number of sharp, near-triangular segments were extended, thorn-like, from the main body of the design. Suddenly aware that his dragonmark was throbbing slowly and heavily, Pol counted them.
'...Five, six, seven.'
Exactly.
He barely glanced at the flame, which hovered now above Taisa.
Bring our physical representations into being upon this plane now, and place each of us at one of the points. You know the order.
'Yes.'
Pol shifted his vision, raised his right hand, caught one of the seven ebon strands leading back over his right shoulder. He rotated his hand, winding the filament about it until he felt a tension upon it. The power flashed from his dragonmark back along the line and he jerked upon it.
He held one of the statuettes in his hand--tall, slim, feminine, sharp-featured and imperious. Its cloak bore a patina of beaten gold and it was girdled with orange, red and yellow stones. A single green gem was set into its forehead.
It felt warm and grew warmer yet as Pol held it, turning his head.
Yes ...
He moved to his right, setting it at the tip of the second peak from the end, facing toward the Gate.
As he straightened, he saw that the stars were fading, the sky growing brighter.
He raised his hand, seeking the strands again. They were not apparent. He realized then that his vision had slipped out of the second seeing. He strove to shift it back, but to no avail.
His dragonmark, he noted then, had lost its recent throbs of power. He massaged his forearm. He tried again to recall his vision.
What is the matter?
'I don't know. I can't do it.'
What do you mean you can't do it? You just did.
'I know. But something's slipped again. The power has been coming and going since I went through Belken. Right now it's gone,'
The flame moved toward him, hovered directly before his eyes. He closed them against the brightness.
Keep your eyes open.
He obeyed, squinting. He saw that the flame was growing, was becoming a vast sheet of fire, now his own size, now larger.
It advanced and he drew back.
Stand still. We must investigate.
It wrapped him like a cloak, it settled upon him. He felt that it was penetrating his body, his very being. There was no sensation of heat, only an odd, vibrating feeling, as when one steps ashore after several days at sea.
Abruptly, it was gone and a shrinking flame swayed before him.
It is true. You are not at the moment capable of functioning at a magical level. There is no way of telling how long this will last, and the night is almost ended. Ryle Merson may send for you in the morning. We must abandon the project for now and secure you once more within your cell. Return the statuette and--
Pol shook his head slowly.
Of course. In your condition, you cannot return it; and we are barred from exercising any direct control over our analogues. Pick it up. We passed a number of rocks and niches on the way in here. You will have to hide it.
'What about Taisa?'
Leave her.
'What if someone finds her here?'
Not important. Come.
The flame moved past him. He picked up the statuette and followed it. Back in the tunnel, he found a place to cache it in a cleft in the rocky wall.
They made their way out of the cave and back into the palace proper. After a few turnings, Pol realized that they were moving along a different route than they had taken earlier. Their progress was much more rapid this time, avoiding the misty chamber and the dark tunnels entirely.
In a short while, he found himself back at his cell and he entered there, drawing the door closed behind him.
'The journey over was just for show, wasn't it?' he said.
Go back to sleep now.
The flame winked out. He heard the bar slide into place. Suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue, his head spinning, he staggered to his bench and collapsed upon it. There was no time to think before the dark waves took him. .
XII
Henry Spier disguised himself anew as he departed the caves of Belken and returned to the enchanted city at its foot. There he spent the day in celebration among his fellow sorcerers, none of whom knew his true identity. He delighted in walking among them bearing a great, dark secret none of them shared. He drank wine spiced with delicate narcotics and he worked wonders and avoided only the greatest among his colleagues. There were none that he feared in a conflict of wills, but he did not wish to come under the scrutiny of any master great enough to pierce his disguise. No, that would be a premature revelation.
