Night of The Eye

turned back to his desk, though he really didn't feel like studying anymore.

'Remember that thing that attacked us in the mountains north of Palanthas? I know, you were in the mirror when it happened and missed all the excitement, but I told you all about it.' Zagarus's feathered head nodded.

'Before that, there were those pirates…' Guerrand tapped his chin in thought. 'I know there are pirates everywhere, but in the mouth of the Bay of Branchala? Even Captain Aldous said it was odd, that he'd never seen pirates so brazen. We were on a Berwick ship; it's not inconceivable someone could have found me.'

That's it? That's why you think someone is after you?

Guerrand shook his head vigorously. 'No. One day, Lyim and I went to the library, then to the marketplace to price components, and-'

I don't remember that.

Guerrand scratched his head. 'I never told you about it. You must have been in the mirror, or you were free, scouring the waterfront. Lyim and I were leaving a dyed-goods stall; I remember it because the proprietor seemed to be staring at me strangely, almost fearfully. We weren't ten paces out of his stall when we were jumped by a pair of sailors. I remembered enough of my cavalier training to drive one off with my dagger. Lyim reacted quickly enough to frighten away the other with a spell, and we escaped into the throng of people.

Guerrand shook his head. 'Ever since that day, though, I get the distinct feeling someone-or something-is watching me whenever I leave the villa. I'm not overly concerned for myself, nor for Lyim. He'd probably like the intrigue, if I told him what I suspect.'

Guerrand paused momentarily as he fiddled with the quill. 'But I can't take that chance around Esme.'

What are you going to do about it?

'What can I do? Just be observant, and be careful, until the day when I can magically determine who's after me.'

Have you told Justarius?

'I can't run to Justarius every time I see someone in the shadows,' said Guerrand. 'I also don't want him to think I'm more trouble than I'm worth. And since I'm fairly certain no one is in danger at Villa Rosad, I don't see any real need to tell him.'

Guerrand set the quill down. 'Besides, I left Cormac's home to get control of my own life. I can take care of this myself.'

A sharp rap drew their attention to Justarius standing in the doorway. His calm expression suggested he'd not heard their conversation. The mage glanced around the room. 'Hello, Guerrand. Zagarus,' he added with a nod. 'I came to tell you that you're going to the festival now.'

Guerrand raised his hands plaintively from his notes. 'Oh, Justarius, I was just beginning to make some progress here. I'd really rather stay-'

'No,' the mage interrupted, 'you're coming to the festival. No one is allowed to miss it, another tradition here at Villa Rosad. Rest assured, your notes will still be on your desk when you return.'

Seeing there was no recourse, with a sigh Guerrand closed his notebook, wiped the quill clean, then stood obediently.

'Esme has gone ahead,' explained the older mage, 'but you and I will have a fine-or at least interesting- time. You'll see.'

Master and apprentice walked through the cool marble vestibule and into the terraced gardens that enhanced the entrance to Villa Rosad. The view from the winding mountain road that connected Justarius's home with the city below was deceptive. Nestled into the scrubby hillside, the villa looked narrow, not much wider than a primitive cottage. The similarity ended there.

The facade of the building was supported by two twenty-foot statues intricately carved of rose marble. The statue to the right of the double door was a curvaceous woman dressed in the same type of soft-flowing gown Esme favored. The left statue was of a well-defined man, muscles bulging under his artfully draped toga. Both statues had regal, aquiline features and wore jewel-studded crowns. As Guerrand watched, the perfectly formed lips of the woman moved.

'Are you going to the Festival of Knights, Justarius?'

Justarius turned around with a salute and flourish at

the sound of the statue's high-pitched monotone. 'Yes, Mitild, I thought we might. It's a lovely day, isn't it?'

Mitild's marble eyes shifted in their hard sockets. 'Yes, the garden is quite perfect now. I prefer the autumn flowers, chrysanthemums and sedum.'

'I do wish we could go to the festival,' said the male statue wistfully, his tone deeper, yet still mechanical. 'It sounds so fascinating from up here.'

'Now, Harlin,' said Justarius in a stern voice, 'I've offered you and Mitild your freedom more times than either of us can remember.'

'Thirty-seven,' supplied Harlin. 'We couldn't possibly go free, Justarius. You know you'd be lost without us guarding the villa.'

'Yes, that's true enough,' the mage agreed kindly.

'Besides, what would we do with our freedom?' said Mitild in that high, hard-edged voice. 'Walk through the city, frightening children?'

'Couldn't you go live with other stone giants?' Guerrand suggested innocently. Suddenly he could feel the hot stares of two sets of cold marble eyes.

'Harlin and I are not stone giants,' Mitild said icily. 'Justarius's master, Merick, brought some of those here a century or so ago. An ignorant, ugly bunch.'

'I'm sorry,' said Guerrand quickly, flushing hotly. 'I just assumed-'

'Why, because we're as tall as buildings and made of marble?'

'Well… yes.'

'Let up on the boy,' admonished Justarius. 'It was a logical assumption. He lacks your broad experience of stone giants, after all.' The statues seemed mildly pacified.

Mitild's eyelids narrowed as she peered intently at Justarius. 'Oh, would you look at that? Please hold this, Harlin,' she said with a quick glance to the cornice above her. To Guerrand's amazement, the perfectly sculpted male took one arduous step into the tiny doorway between the two statues. He twisted slightly, revealing a perfectly flat back, since only his front had been carved. Harlin reached up with his smoothly crafted left arm to support the portion of the roof above Mitild's crowned head.

With the sluggish grace and grinding noises one would expect from moving marble, Mitild lifted the hem of her gown and stepped slowly down the stairs toward Justarius. Towering more than three times the height of the unperturbed mage, the giant statue reached down with her enormous, pale hand and tugged at the ever-present white ruff around the mage's throat. 'Who would straighten your attire whenever you leave the villa?'

'Certainly no one could do it as well as you, Mitild. It's become crystal clear to me that I could not run Villa Rosad without you, so wipe the thought from your heads,' Justarius said firmly, pleased at the slight smiles his words brought to the lips of the statues. 'And now, good day.'

With that, the mage grasped Guerrand by the elbow and propelled him through the garden. They could still hear the statues' cries of farewell from below on the winding road that led through the kettles to the valley in which Palanthas sat.

Finally out of earshot, Guerrand ventured to ask, 'If they're not stone giants, what are they?'

Justarius shrugged. 'I haven't the faintest idea,' he confessed. 'Never have been able to figure it out. Mitild and Harlin came with Villa Rosad. They do a superb job screening and scaring off intruders. In exchange, I must spend a few minutes every now and then making them feel indispensable. It's a small enough price to pay.'

'They certainly frightened me sufficiently when I arrived for the first time.' Guerrand recalled clearly the day he had followed the tower's shadow to Justarius's villa. 'I was so thrilled at having found the place that I strolled straight in as if I owned it-until a pair of marble hands as big as my torso picked me up by the shoulders and made me introduce myself.'

Justarius laughed. 'And they had orders to give you the hospitable treatment!'

Despite having changed into a summer-weight robe of light linen, Guerrand was perspiring heavily by the time they reached the bottom of the hill. Justarius's road fed into one of the spokes leading to the city's southwest