sky. Jemidon felt the water quickly soak through his clothing, but he wiped his face dry and followed the action below. Again Drandor appeared uncertain and looked to the tent. Finally he nodded and reached into the box, pulling out a panel of paper stretched across a light frame. He held it up for inspection, but the falling rain immediately shredded it to ribbons. Shrugging, the trader brought forth a second. Careful to keep it vertical, he placed it in front of the lantern. The lamplight shone through the paper onto the mural and another beast appeared, grazing among the others. Drandor quickly threw the panel aside and reached for a third. The same beast was projected again, although in a slightly different orientation than before. Quickly the trader ran through a fourth, a fifth, and then many more. Jemidon saw that the set of figures was in a sequence, each one showing the next posture as the animal extended his neck to reach for a fruit dangling from a low branch.
As the scenario unfolded, more figures came into view. Meteorlike rocks streaked across the sky. One swooped low, almost touching the plant tops, and men with grayish skin and wearing loincloths descended among the beasts. While some stalked the animals with nets, others used picks and shovels to pry into the boulder-strewn ground. The soaring stone that had dropped them to the surface reappeared over the horizon. Pieces of discovered crystal were dumped onto the net-ensnarled beasts, and then the tangles of rock, animals, men, and nets lifted back into the sky. Like swords drawn to a lodestone, they were attracted to the flying monolith as it sped away.
As he watched, Jemidon felt the numbness of the past week dissolve away. The trader's actions were somehow a tantalizing fascination that kept him watching, even though he was getting soaked to the skin. He felt buoyant, a sense of chains being snapped, of being cast adrift and sailing away. He listened harder to the wind whistling past his ears, ran his tongue over his lips to taste drops of rain, and rubbed the wet sharpness of the coin about his neck, using all his senses to experience what was happening. But the drifting was somehow internal as well, an irresistible tug that snapped anchorages hidden far away and started huge monoliths lumbering free to seek other resting places.
For a long moment, Jemidon puzzled about the strange feeling, but then a movement on the path that led up the face of the cliff distracted his attention. Golden curls, plastered down by the rain, bobbed above the edge. He recognized Delia struggling upward on the slippery stones, tripping over the tatters of her soaked gown.
'Jemidon!' she cried. 'A stroke of luck in my favor! You must help me. Drandor is distracted, and now is my chance.'
Jemidon's eyes ran over Delia's wet gown that followed closely the curves of her body, but she ignored the stare. She ran forward and grabbed his arm.
'Quickly,' she said, 'quickly, before he releases them to come after. I must get to the harbor. I plan to sail with the flotilla of the high prince.'
'They left with the tide hours ago.' Jemidon felt the sense of drifting fade and then vanish altogether. All was rock-solid, as it had always been before. Her closeness eclipsed the attraction that had pulled his attention to the trader. For the second time, she was asking for his help. To know her better might produce sweet rewards.
But she was indentured. Drandor probably could produce some document of sale. And Canthor would not care about the apprehension in her eyes. Maintaining the reputation of Morgana to the traveler would be his only concern. For Jemidon to get involved would mean risking expulsion, being forced to leave before Farnel could teach a single thing more.
'To gamble in the token markets of Pluton was foolish. Yes, I admit it,' Delia filled the silence. 'But many others have I seen rise from the streets to manor houses on the seacliffs. And even those who lost and had to sell their freedom to pay their debts did not fare so badly, if their masters were kind.
'My first acted with discreetness.' She lowered her eyes. 'And the whip of the second was easy enough to avoid, if you made no errors in totaling the sums in his countinghouse. But when his own fortunes crashed and he could not choose to whom his properites would go, it was Drandor who carried me away.
'And from the first, he has licked his lips in anticipation. Nightly he heats his tongs and pinchers and oils his chains. He leaves crude sketches of my scarred face and maimed limbs for me to find in the morning.
'With him, it is a game. Evidently his partner, Melizar, prevents him from acting rashly with their joint property without due cause. And so he hints, threatens, and tells me his fantasy a bit at a time. Then he waits, waits for my reaction, for some protest, a falter in carrying out a command-any shadow of an excuse for him to justify feeding his desires.'
Delia stopped and shuddered. 'And by the laws, it has worked. I can stand it no longer. I must be away.'
Jemidon reached for Delia's hand, but then dropped it as his thoughts tumbled. How could he help? Save for the harbor area, he was as defenseless on Morgana as she. To whom else could they turn? Farnel would not want to get involved with a complication that had nothing to do with his art. And any other master or tyro would be interested in them only as the recipients of some degrading spell.
'You are legally bound,' he said, but then stopped when he heard a low growl that carried to the cliff top, despite the wind and rain.
'They are free for the hunt!' Delia exclaimed. 'He has discovered my absence far sooner than I thought.'
The short hairs on Jemidon's neck bristled. 'Come,' he said in sudden decision. 'We will go down the slope, back the way I came.'
'Wait, there is more.' Delia did not pause to thank Jemidon for his aid. Instead, she ran to the cliff edge and dipped back over the rim. A moment later she returned, struggling with the lattice and the imp bottle that Jemidon had seen in the tent a few days before. 'My passage from the island. Any captain will gladly trade a berth for items that can fetch a goodly sum elsewhere.'
'They are not yours to take.' Jemidon hesitated. 'And they will only slow you down.'
'Then I will carry them myself.' Delia juggled the bottle under one arm and tried to swing the lattice across her shoulder. 'If Drandor must face his partner's wrath for their loss, then so much the better.'
A second growl rolled through the air and then another. Jemidon shrugged, rushed to the lattice, and flung it across his back. He grabbed Delia's hand and jerked her about to follow him across the cliff top. She took a cautious step, and immediately they both fell in a splatter; the rain had given the granite a treacherous stickness.
'The imp!' Jemidon shouted. 'Shake the bottle and disturb his sleep! His light will guide the way.'
Delia rattled the jar, and a weak flickering pulsed from its interior. 'Patience, master,' a thin voice called. 'In a moment, I will be ready to do your bidding.'
Jemidon ignored the imp's babbling and peered into the darkness. Like the bow of a great ship, the monolithic plug of granite on which they stood pushed defiantly into the sea. On the side adjacent to the bazaar, the wall was steep, although generations of patient hammering had pounded a path to the broad and gently rolling top. The other side was more sheer still, and a descent at night carried too much risk.
'Yes, the way I came,' Jemidon said. 'The cliff top slopes back into the interior of the island. We will pass close to the dwellings of many of the masters and tyros; but with all of them at the presentation hall, it probably will not matter.'
Jemidon climbed to his feet and started out at a fast walk, one arm over his shoulder holding the lattice and the other guiding Delia to follow. He heard Drandor's voice closer than before and barks of excitement. He began to trot and then, jumping over a iarge crack, broke into a run. In a moment, they were racing down the slope, dodging jagged ledges as best they could and skirting boulders too large to vault,
The wind tore at Jemidon's cape, and he squinted away the rain which dashed into his eyes. He felt the cold chill of the water, despite the exertion. Behind, he heard the gasps of Delia's breath as she struggled to keep pace and the flail of her feet when she tripped and scrambled for balance.
The time ticked away. It had taken a small part of an hour for Jemidon's leisurely ascent, but the return seemed far longer. He wanted to charge forward even faster, to sprint at top speed until they could reach some cover. But the smaJI slips and stumbles impeded their progress. The race through the blowing rain progressed in agonizing slowness.
Finally the way leveled off, and the soggy crunch of pebbles underfoot indicated that they had intersected a path used by the sorcerers. Jemidon slowed, but Delia plunged onward, the change in terrain catching her by surprise. Her feet skittered on the wet stones, and she fell, pulling Jemidon with her. They collapsed in a tumble of arms and legs. The lattice clanged loose, and the imp bottle squirted free to roli down the road.
The rain diminished for a moment. The full moon shone through. Arms around each other, the two panted deeply, trying to regain their breath. Jemidon looked back to the cliff top and choked in surprise. There, framed in
