above the stembrain. Even though, to ones of our realm, you all look very much the same, in the end all the possibilities will be eliminated except one.'
Astron halted. Kestrel saw him flick transparent membranes down over his eyes. The demon's face seemed to take on a distant and preoccupied look.
'Now that I think of it,' Astron continued after a moment, 'our urgencies are closely intertwined. The same imps and devils called forth by the wizards could most likely have a second mission as well. If Gaspar has already triumphed, then the visitors to your realm will be instructed in addition to search for Elezar's missing cataloguer so that he can be returned to his fate.
'Yes, woodcutter, I need your help to navigate through the realm of men just as you need one such as me-one who knows the signs of the presences of my kind.' Astron held up the rag in his hand and tossed it to Kestrel. 'My eyes see reds that men cannot, especially when my membranes are in place to filter out the distractions of the blues. That is how I can so easily detect the areas of moisture that you missed on this creature's back. In like manner I will notice the imp glows far sooner than could the finest wizard in your realm. I can alert you of the danger while we pursue our common goal.'
'What common goal?'
'Why to find the archimage, of course,' Astron said. 'If he stands to these wizards as a prince does to the djinns of my realm, then only he will be able to turn aside their anger and tell them to desist.'
Astron paused. The hint of a smile crept onto his face. 'So you see, what we seek is the same, as well as what we avoid.'
Kestrel felt the dampness of the cloth that Astron had thrown him and dropped it to the ground with the other. He patted his mare and frowned.
'You can detect the presence of these imps before they can get too close?' he asked.
'Far before what you might dismiss as a fleeting spark of light or a distant buzz of an insect, I can recognize it for what it truly is.'
'And once detected, you can confine them as well?'
'They would bite my fingers just as surely as yours,' Astron said. 'It is the bottles made by your magicians that are best to keep them in.'
'Such jars cost a great deal,' Kestrel said. 'Far more than a dozen brandels. I have-have dealt with a guild of Procolon to the north and know full well what one might bring.'
'Then too there is the matter of the gold imp and others of its kind. For those I do not know for sure that I can even detect.'
'If you have not heard of such, then they most probably do not exist,' Kestrel said.
'But I heard you speak of them to the wizards.'
'It was a lie.' Kestrel shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the thought. He looked into the demon's unblinking eyes. Not being able to snatch even a glimmer of what he really was up to made him very uncomfortable. But what Astron had said made sense. Kestrel had bruised the pride of not a single wizard but almost a dozen. The archimage probably was the only one who could get him out of his fix. Only Alodar would have enough power to turn aside the masters' wrath once he somehow was convinced it was all a simple mistake. And surely Kestrel could come up with a plausible explanation before he got to the capital of Procolon. Crossing the border would be the only problem.
Kestrel smiled. Now that he thought of it, being in the presence of the archimage might lead to other opportunities as well. The master of five magics was a man just like the rest. What satisfaction there would be in giving him the chance to outsmart a simple woodchopper. The archimage! Yes, it would be the greatest triumph of all!
'Very well,' Kestrel said after a moment's more deliberation. If the demon had any ulterior motives, he would deal with them when they became more apparent. For now he would continue as he had been asked. 'Our paths are still joined. I will get us to the archimage-as we, of course, have originally agreed.'
'A lie,' Astron said slowly, apparently ignoring what Kestrel said. 'You spoke something which was not a reflection of the truth, or at least your interpretation of it.'
'Of course,' Kestrel said. 'I explained to you already what I am about, what all men are about. Concern yourself about it no longer. The only difference is that some of us are more skilled in seeing through the words to what stands behind.'
'You have this skill of observation?' Astron asked.
Kestrel sighed. The events of the past hour had already been too draining. He did not want to experience any more intense feelings. He shook his head and turned away.
Astron waved at the mare and wagon. 'I understand,' he said, 'that you do not have the means of transporting us as swiftly as a mighty djinn. One is bound by his honor for no more than he is capable of giving.' He reached out and tugged on Kestrel's sleeve. 'There will be time, therefore, that can be most profitably spent with no hint of disgrace-time to tell me how you learned to discern the truth of things that are not.'
Kestrel studied Astron's expression. He saw no trace of mocking judgment. The demon's words of honor and trust unlocked memories that had been suppressed for too many years. Unbidden, they bubbled up to be exam ined again. They would not go away until they had been acknowledged. And if only a being from another realm heard them, who would really care?
'I did not have such skills at first,' Kestrel heard himself say softly. 'Not at first, when perhaps they counted the most.' He waved his arm up toward the wagon where Phoebe sat entranced. 'In many ways the wizard reminds me of her-at least in the way she speaks and smiles.'
Kestrel looked down at the brandels he clutched in his hand and ran his fingers over the bust of the old queen. 'Evelyn was a wandering sorcerer, so she said, unaffiliated with those on Morgana across the great sea. The logo of the eye on her robe was plainly stitched and unadorned. A sorcerer of great beauty she was as well, as fair as Vendora, the ruler of Procolon, in her prime.
'Her love for me knew no bounds, she told me. Anything that I asked that was in her power would be mine. And who was I to believe otherwise, a lad barely out of his teens.
'The request was simple enough-to go with her among the townspeople I knew, add credence to her tale, and hold the pledges for safekeeping that each of them subscribed. When the total was sufficient she would add a matching amount of her own and then, while I waited outside the gates, negotiate with the Cycloid Guild for the sale of some properties that would aid in the enchantments. With them she would form great illusions of healing and relieve the deep-set pains that even sweet-balm could not touch. Our village would become famous for the soothing comforts the charms provided. Everyone would share in the fees that such wonders would bring. And I would learn the words of the spells and be second only to her in the eyes of the grateful.
'Three days I paced in front of the forbidding doors of the guild before some of the more suspicious townspeople came and asked to count again the contents of the sacks I so carefully guarded. When they were opened and iron disks instead of soft gold spilled out, I was as much shocked as they. Even when told how the switch must have taken place in a moment of intimacy, I would not believe. At any second, I knew, the gates would open and Evelyn would emerge with a satisfactory explanation.
'But she did not come; she left by another exit from the guild almost as soon as she had entered. No, she reappeared not then nor during any of the four years I wasted away in a dungeon in punishment for my part in the crime.
'So when I finally was set free, I started learning to look intently at the faces, to read behind the words and to serve to magicians and other masters some of the same formulas that they would brew for me.'
Kestrel paused and shrugged. 'It is not so difficult if you set your mind to it. Every man betrays his innermost thoughts with slight gestures and the tugs of muscles in his face, master as well as slave. You merely have to put yourself in his place and feel as your own what must be his driving desires. Each time you observe, the readings become clearer, the hidden motives behind them easier to read.
'And with that understanding comes the power to manipulate, to guide and channel according to your own desire. One can twist a master of the arts like a magic ring about his finger and show to the world, like Evelyn, how undeserving he is.
'So in the end I have become a sorcerer as much as any other. No, I know nothing of the incantations that are so hard to say but if spoken thrice bind the spells. I do not bend others to my will by force of magical art. The illusions that I spin are fabrics of the other's own thoughts, rather than my own. I merely encourage the impulses
