troubled resignation, Kestrel watched Phoebe surrender to the folds of the demon's free arm. In a heart beat, both were gone into the deep blackness that seemed to permeate most of the realm.
Kestrel turned his attention back to the curving walls of Astron's lair. He touched the rough surface and felt the stone seem to warp and flex. Thinner than paper, he thought. It was remarkable that it was able to hold a shape with his weight pressing on a membrane of similar material that divided the hollow sphere horizontally in half.
Only the single circular opening to the outside broke the blank expanse of the walls. All available space was covered, either with shelves or pierced with hooks from which hung lamps, flower petals, spoons, key rings, thimbles, scissors, squares of printed cloth, and a lock of hair.
A single cushion sat on the rough flooring next to a pipe, a pile of small bones, and a pen and bottle of ink. The low-hanging lamp nearby illuminated a scrap of parchment on which a carefully drawn line of script had been abruptly halted in midstroke.
Kestrel stepped around the cushion and headed for the dim outline of a spiral staircase disappearing into a circular opening near the far wall. He should have explored thoroughly before Phoebe's departure, but the presence of the devil was too great of an opportunity to waste. The bottom half of the lair was probably like the top and, once Astron appeared, it would not really matter what-
A sudden wheeze of pain filled the confines of the chamber and stopped Kestrel in midstride. He looked quickly about the collection of artifacts and grabbed a long, two-pronged fork. It would be of little use in the realm of daemon, he thought ruefully, but he could find nothing more potent.
A second wheeze followed the first, and then a rustle of movement from down below. Kestrel retreated a step, gripping the fork warily. He saw the deep glow of yellow eyes emerge, and then a figure loomed into the light.
A ragged robe of deep sea-green with one sleeve torn entirely away hung over a slender body that limped with each step. A wide and angry scar ran from brow to chin on an otherwise delicate face. The remains of an upturned nose sat atop once slender lips, now swollen and red.
'I am Elezar, the one who is golden,' Kestrel heard a voice rasp with difficulty between each dragging step. 'I knew that my cataloguer would return, as was his duty to his prince, but I fear it is most likely far too late.'
Kestrel raised the fork cautiously and held it in front of his chest. His eyes darted quickly about the confines of the lair, trying to locate just exactly where he had materialized and hence where Astron was also likely to appear.
'You speak in the tongue of men,' Kestrel said softly. 'I understand even though I am not the one you seek.'
'I heard your petty debate and the final resolution.' Elezar sagged to the cushion. 'Since the outcome was the proper one, I did not interfere. Getting the harebell pollen to the one who reckons is all that is important now, despite the risk that Gaspar's minions might see the transit. It is the last hope. If it fails, then I am resigned to what will follow.' Elezar waved at the fork. The edge of a smile tugged at his lips. 'Put away the weapon,' he said. 'I do not have the strength to harm you, mortal. If you strive for the same goals as my cataloguer, then it is not my intent to do you harm.'
Kestrel eyed the prince, but could read nothing in the damaged face. 'We had heard that Gaspar even drove you from your hidden node,' he said, 'and pursued you into the very blackness of your realm.'
'Gaspar does not have the wit to know where to look,' Elezar spat. 'To find me in the well-lighted lair of the vanished cataloguer, after he once had determined it abandoned, is entirely beyond his ken.'
Kestrel could not bring himself to relax. Astron should have appeared by now. Without the demon's aid, who knew what Phoebe and Nimbia were getting themselves into? And a prince of demons, even if sorely wounded, would be more than a match for a man with no skills in wizardry.
'Then what now?' he said cautiously. 'What is the will of the prince?'
'We will wait,' Elezar said. 'Wait and see if Palodad has sufficient time to unlock the secret to the riddle.'
Kestrel did not reply. He lowered himself to the stone floor, but kept the fork at his side. Imitating the impassive resignation of the prince, he steeled himself into inaction.
Time dragged slowly by. For what seemed like eons, Elezar did not move. Occasionally a soft wheeze escaped from his lips. With each one, the glow in his eyes dimmed even further.
Finally Kestrel could be still no longer. He stirred uncomfortably from where he had slumped against the wall. The inward sloping curve pressed against the base of his head and gave no support to his back. He glanced at Elezar, sitting in regal quiet on the cushion, and scowled.
With each passing moment, his agitation had grown, but he did not know what to do about it. Hours must have passed since the prince lapsed into silence, and even though Astron had said that the flow of time was not quite the same between different realms, surely he would have appeared by now. He glanced again at Elezar's crumpled form. Even if wounded, he thought, could a prince be persuaded to carry a single man to the lair of-
'Gaspar, Gaspar, the prince of lightning djinns has observed my passage!' A sudden shriek cut into Kestrel's thoughts. He looked up to see the devil that had transported Phoebe and Nimbia twitching with spasms on the landing just outside the entrance to the lair.
'Grab control of your stembrain, or I will do it for you.' Elezar suddenly sprang to life. 'Speak with coherence. I, your prince, demand it.'
'He observed my passage to Palodad's lair, and upon my return, forced upon me where you were. I, I am-'
'Silence,' Elezar thundered. 'The risk was worth taking. If you have failed, there is no point now in lamenting what might have been. Into the sky with you, assemble all that remain from their hiding places, and draw them here.' The prince looked about Astron's artifacts and smiled. 'Yes, here at the den of a mere cataloguer. For a final battle it is most fitting.'
'If Gaspar has defeated you before, what hope do you have now?' Kestrel sprang to his feet. He felt his apprehension tighten like an alchemist's vice. Everything was crashing down, just as Astron had feared from the first. Even Elezar seemed resigned to his fate, and Kestrel and his friends were in the middle of it, with little hope of escape.
'Do not give up,' Kestrel said. 'Get help from the other princes.'
'More than half have thrown their lot in with Gaspar,' Elezar said. 'The rest cautiously await the outcome before they declare. No, none in the realm of daemon dare light their domains to aid the one who is golden.'
Elezar stopped speaking and, for a long moment, seemed to look past Kestrel into the stone wall behind. 'At least it will not be surrender to the great monotony. The few weavings of energy I have saved for the last will give Gaspar as much pain as he plans to inflict upon me.'
'If not your own kind, then from the other realms,' Kestrel said quickly. His thoughts spun. He would have to come up with a plan as he had never before. 'From the archimage, the fey, the skyskur, and the reticulates as well.'
Elezar's eyes narrowed. He eyed Kestrel specula-lively. 'The denizens of other realms regard my kind either with fear or loathing. What would make them want to enter into a struggle not their own?'
'Let me handle that,' Kestrel said. 'First the archimage, and then we can appeal to the others. Contact any wizard in the realm of men and state that you have news of the woodcutter and female wizard. I heard Alodar ask to be informed, just as we vanished into the universe of the fey.'
Elezar was silent for a moment. 'Your words disturb my stembrain,' he said. 'I was prepared to meet Gaspar even on his own terms if there proved to be insufficient time to unravel the riddle. Now you give me one more tendril of matter to grasp. Even for a prince, there comes a moment when he must finally put aside the last of foolish hopes.'
Kestrel waited without daring to speak again. Heart beats of time throbbed away. But finally a cloud seemed to lift from Elezar's face. The fading spark in his eyes glowed with a new life and he nodded.
'Tell each that you contact that they must first attempt to bridge through the flame,' the prince commanded the devil just as he was about to leave. 'Get the message of the woodcutter to the archimage so that he in turn will try to contact me here.'
The devil shuddered a final time. Then with a trembling beat of his wings, he fluttered away. Kestrel saw pinpoints of light in the distance behind him assembling into a precise row and Elezar followed his gaze.
