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instruments he found near the dead： rings； strangely carved staffs； crystals with light frozen in them； skeletons of winged animals he could not name。 He sorted through all the various levels of power； found the source of each。 Once； tracing a smoldering fire to its bed deep in a pool of melted iron； he detonated it accidentally and realized the iron itself had been some crucible of knowledge。 The blast blew the crow six feet in the air and shook stones down from the ceiling。 He had melted into the force automatically； not fighting it； the crow； squawking nervously； watched him shape himself back out of the solid stone he had blown himself into。 He took it into his hands to soothe it； marveling at the intricacies of ancient wizardry。 Everything his mind touched … wood； glass； gold； parchment； bone … held within it an ember of power。 He explored patiently； exhaustingly； lighting a sliver of roof beam when it grew too dark to see。 Finally； near midnight； when the crow was dozing on his shoulder； his mind strayed across the face of a door that did not exist。
It was a powerful illusion； he had looked at the door before and not seen through it； or felt an urge to open it。 It was of thick oak and iron； barred and bolted。 He would have to pick his way over a pile of broken stone and charred timber to open it。 The walls were crumbled almost to the ground around the door； it seemed bolted against nothing but the battle…seared ground between two ruined buildings。 But it had been created out of a living power； for some purpose。 He clambered over the rubble to reach it and laid his hand fiat against it。 Some mind barred his passage； gave him a feel of wood grain under his fingers。 He paused before he broke it； disturbed once more by the ambiguity of his own great power。 Then he walked forward； being； for a breath； worm…eaten oak； rusted locks； and enpassing the power that bound them there。
He stepped downward abruptly into darkness。 Steps that lay hidden under an illusion of parched ground led down under the earth。 His fire wavered； grew smaller and smaller until he realized what force was working against it。 He held the flame clear； steady； burning out of fire deep in his mind。
The worn stone steps sloped sharply down a narrow passageway。 Gradually they levelled； and a blank； empty face of darkness loomed beyond Morgon's shadow； smelling of rotting timbers and damp stone。 He let his brand burn brighter； it probed feebly at the vastness。 A chill； like a mountain chill； shivered through him。 The crow made a harsh noise。 He felt it begin to change shape； and he shook his head quickly。 It subsided under his hand。 As he drew the fire brighter and brighter； searching for some limit to the darkness； something began to seep into his thoughts。 He sensed a power very near him that had nothing to do with a vast； underground chasm。 Puzzling over it； he wondered if the chasm itself were an illusion。
He drew breath softly and held it。 Only one possibility suggested itself to him： a paradox of wizardry。 He had no other choice； except to turn and leave。 He dropped his torch on the ground； let it dwindle into blackness。 How long he stood wrestling with the dark； he did not know。 The more he strained to see； the more he realized his blindness。 He lifted his hands finally； linked them across his eyes。 He was shivering again； the darkness seemed to squat over his head like some immense； bulky creature。 But he could not leave； he stood silently； stubbornly； hoping for help。
A voice said； almost next to him； 〃Night is not something to endure until dawn。 It is an element； like wind or fire。 Darkness is its own kingdom； it moves to its own laws and many living things dwell in it。 You are trying to separate your mind from it。 That is futile。 Accept the strictures of darkness。〃
〃I can't。〃 His hands had dropped； clenched； he waited； very still。
〃Try。〃
His hands tightened； sweat stung his eyes。 〃I can fight the Founder； but I never learned from him how to fight this。〃
〃You broke through my illusion as if it scarcely existed。〃 The voice was tranquil； yet sinewy。 〃I held it with all the power that I still possess。 There are only two others who could have broken it。 And you are more powerful than either。 Star…Bearer； I am Iff。〃 He pronounced his full name then； a series of harsh syllables with a flowing； musical inflection。 〃You freed me from the Founder's power； and I place myself in your service； to my life's end。 Can you see me？〃
〃No；〃 Morgon whispered。 〃I want to。〃
Stars of torch fire ringed him； upholding an arch of light。 The sense of vastness melted away。 The gentle； wordless awareness of something not quite real； like a memory haunting the edge of his mind； was very strong。 Then he saw a death's head gazing at him quizzically； and another； amid a tangle of assorted bones。 The chamber he stood in was circular； the damp walls of living earth were full of deep slits。 The hair prickled on the nape of his neck。 He was standing in a tomb； hidden beneath the great school。
He had interrupted the last living wizards of burying their dead。
IX
HE RECOGNIZED NUN IMMEDIATELY： A TALL； THIN woman with long grey hair and a shrewd； angular face。 She was smoking a little jewelled pipe； her eyes； studying him with an odd mixture of wonder and worry； were a shade darker than her smoke。 Behind her； in the torchlight； stood a big； spare wizard whose broad； fine…boned face was carved and battered with battle like a king's。 His dead hair was flecked with silver and gold； his eyes were vivid； smoldering with blue flame。 He was gazing at Morgon out of the past； as if three stars had burned for a moment across his vision sometime in the darkness of forgotten centuries。 Kneeling next to one of the crevices in the wall was a dark…eyed wizard with a spare face like a bird of prey。 He seemed fierce； humorless； until Morgon met his eyes and saw a faint smile； as at some incongruity。 Morgon turned a little to the tall； frail wizard beside him； with the voice of a Caithnard Master。 His face was worn； ascetic； but Morgon； watching him step forward； sensed the unexpected strength in his lean body。
He said tentatively； 〃Iff？〃
〃Yes。〃 His hand slid very gently up Morgon's shoulder； taking the crow； and Morgon thought suddenly of the books the Morgol of Rerun had brought to Caithnard with drawings of wildflowers down their precise margins。
〃You are the scholar who loves wild things。〃
The wizard glanced up from the crow； his still face surprised； suddenly vulnerable。 The crow was staring at him darkly； not a feather moving。 The hawk…faced wizard slid the skull he was holding into a crevice and crossed the room。
〃We sent a crow much like that back to Anuin； not long ago。〃 His spare； restless voice was like his eyes； at once fierce and patient。
Nun exclaimed； 〃Raederle！〃 Her voice slid pleasantly in and out of her pigherder's accent。 〃What in Hel's name are you doing here？〃
Iff looked startled。 He put the crow back on Morgon's shoulder and said to it； 〃I beg your pardon。〃 He added to Morgon； 〃Your wife？〃
〃No。 She won't marry me。 She won't go home； either。 But she is capable of taking care of herself。〃
〃Against Ghisteslwchlohm？〃 A hawk's eyes met the crow's a full moment； then the crow shifted nervously back under Morgon's ear。 He wanted suddenly to take the bird and hide it in his tunic next to his heart。 The wizard's thin brows were puckered curiously。 〃I served the Kings of An and Aum for centuries。 After the destruction of Lungold； I became a falcon； constantly caught； growing old and escaping to grow young again。 I have worn jesses and bells and circled the wind to return to the hands of Kings of Anuin for centuries。 None of them； not even Mathom of An； had the power even to see behind my eyes。 There is great； restless power in her。。。 She reminds me of someone； a falcon…memory 。。。〃
Morgon touched the crow gently； uncertain in its silence。 〃She'll tell you；〃 he said at last； and the expression on the aged； proud face changed。
〃Is she afraid of us？ For what conceivable reason？ In falcon…shape； I took meat from her father's bare hand。〃
〃You are Talies；〃 Morgon said suddenly； and the wizard nodded。 〃The historian。 At Caithnard； I read what you wrote about Hed。〃
〃Well。〃 The sharp eyes were almost smiling again。 〃I wrote that many centuries ago。 No doubt Hed has changed since then； to produce the Star…Bearer along with plow horses and beer。〃
〃No。 If you went back； you would recognize it。〃 He remembered the wraiths of An； men； and his voice caught slightly。 He turned to the wizard built like a Ymris warrior。 〃And you are Aloil。 The poet。 You wrote love poems to。。。〃 His voice stuck again； this tune in embarrassment。 But Nun was smiling。
〃Imagine anyone bothering to remember all that after a thousand years and more。 You were well…educated at that College。〃
〃The writings of the Lungold wizards … those that were not destroyed here … formed the base of riddlery。〃 He added； sensing a sudden question in Aloil's mind； 〃Part of your work is at Caithnard； and the rest in the king's library at Caerweddin。 Astrin Ymris had most of your poetry。〃
〃Poetry。〃 The wizard swept a knotted hand through his hair。 〃It should have been destroyed here。 It was worth little more than that。 You e bearing memories into this place； tales of a realm that we will not live to see again。 We came here to kill Ghisteslwchlohm or die。〃
〃I didn't；〃 Morgon said softly。 〃I came to ask the Founder some questions。〃
The wizard's inward gaze seemed to pull itself out of memory； turn toward him。 〃Questions！〃
〃It's proper；〃 Nun said soothingly。 〃He is a riddle…master。〃
〃What has riddlery to do with this？〃 〃Well。〃 Then her teeth clamped back down on her pipe； and she sent up a stream of little； perturbed puffs without answering。 Iff asked practically； 〃Do you have the strength？〃
〃To kill him？ Yes。 To hold his mind and get what knowledge I need。。。 I must。 I'll find the power。 He is no use to me dead。 But I can't fight shape…changers at the same time。 And I am not sure how powerful they are。〃
〃You do plicate matters；〃 Nun murmured。 〃We came here for such a simple purpose。。。〃
〃I need you alive。〃
〃Well。 It's nice to be needed。 Look around you。〃 The firelight seemed to follow her hand as she gestured。 〃There were twenty…nine wizards and over two hundred men and women of talent studying here seven centuries ago。 Of those； we are burying two hundred and twenty…four。 Twenty…three； not counting Suth。 And you know how he died。 You have walked through this place。 It is a great cairn of wizardry。 There is power still in the ancient bones； which is why we are burying them； so centuries from now the small witches and sorcerors of the realm will not e hunting thighbones and fingerbones for their spells。 The dead of Lungold deserve some peace。 I know you broke Ghisteslwchlohm's power to free us。 But when you pursued that harpist instead of him； you gave him time to strengthen his powers。 Are you so sure now that you can hold back a second destruction？〃
〃No。 I am certain of nothing。 Not even my own name； so I move from riddle to riddle。 Ghisteslwchlohm built and destroyed Lungold because of these stars。〃 He slid his hair back。 〃They drove me out of Hed into his hands and I would have stayed in Hed forever； content to make beer and breed plow horses； never knowing you were alive； or that the High One in Erlenstar Mountain was a lie。 I need to know what these stars are。 Why Ghisteslwchlohm was not afraid of the High One。 Why he wants me alive； powerful yet trapped。 What power he is watching me stumble into。 If I kill him； the realm will be rid of him； but I will still have questions no one will ever answer … like a starving man possessing gold in a land where gold has no value。 Do you understand？〃 he asked Aloil suddenly； and saw in the burled shoulders； the hard； scrolled face； the great； twisted tree he had been for seven centuries on King's Mouth Plain。 〃I understand；〃 the wizard said softly； 〃where I have been for seven hundred years。 Ask him your questions