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Ghisteslwchlohm stepped back； his fingers driving to the bone on Morgon's arm； but he could not have moved。 The harpist slid to his knees； hunched over the newly broken bones in his hand。 He lifted his face； white； bruised with agony； asking nothing。 For a moment Ghisteslwchlohm looked down at him silently； and Morgon saw in his eyes what might have been the broken memories of many centuries。 Then his own hand rose。 A lash of fire caught the harpist across the eyes； flung him backward across the bracken； where he lay still； staring blindly at the sun。
The wizard held Morgon with his hand and his eyes； until Morgon realized slowly that he was shaken with a dry； tearless sobbing and his muscles were locked to attack。 The wizard touched his eyes briefly； as if the streak of fire torn out of his mind had given him a headache。 〃Why in Hel's name；〃 he demanded； 〃are you wasting grief on him？ Look at me。 Look at me！〃
〃I don't know！〃 Morgon shouted back at him。 He saw more fire snap through the air； across the harpist's body。 It touched the dark harp and flamed。 The air wailed with snapping strings。 Raederle shimmered suddenly into sheer fire； the wizard pulled her relentlessly back into shape with his mind。 She was still half…fire； and Morgon was struggling with an impulse of power that would have doomed her； when something in him froze。 He whirled。 Watching curiously among the trees were a dozen men。 Their horses were the color of night； their garments all the wet； rippling colors of the sea。
〃The world；〃 one of them mented in the sudden silence； 〃is not a safe place for harpists。〃 He bent his head to Morgon。 〃Star…Bearer。〃 His pale； expressionless face seemed to flow a little with the breeze。 From him came the smell of brine。 〃Ylon's child。〃 His lucent eyes went to Ghisteslwchlohm。 〃High One。〃
Morgon stared at them。 His mind； spinning through possibilities of action； went suddenly blank。 They had no weapons； their black mounts were stone still； but any movement； he sensed； a shift of light； a bird call on the wrong note； could spring a merciless attack。 They seemed suspended from motion； as on a breath of silence between two waves； whether by curiosity or simple uncertainty； he did not know。 He felt Ghisteslwchlohm's hand grip his shoulder and was reassured oddly by the fact that the wizard wanted him alive。
The shape…changer who had spoken answered his question with a soft； equivocal mockery； 〃For thousands of years we have been waiting to meet the High One。〃
Morgon heard the wizard draw breath。 〃So。 You are the spawn of the seas of Ymris and An？〃
〃No。 We are not of the sea。 We have shaped ourselves to its harping。 You are careless of your harpist。〃
〃The harpist is my business。〃
〃He served you well。 We watched him through the centuries； doing your bidding； wearing your mask； waiting。。。 as we waited； long before you set foot on this earth of the High One's； Ghisteslwchlohm。 Where is the High One？〃 His horse snaked forward soundlessly； like a shadow； stopped three paces from Morgon。 He resisted an impulse to step backward。 The Founder's voice； tired； impatient； made him marvel。
〃I am not interested in riddle…games。 Or in a fight。 You take your shapes out of dead men and seaweed； you breathe； you harp and you die： that is all I know or care to know about you。 Back your mount or you will be riding a pile of kelp。〃
The shape…changer backed it a step without a shift of muscle。 His eyes caught light like water； for an instant they seemed to smile。 〃Master Ohm；〃 he said； 〃do you know the riddle of the man who opened his door at midnight and found not the black sky filling his doorway but the black； black eye of some creature who stretched beyond him to measureless dimension？ Look at us again。 Then go； quietly； leaving the Star…Bearer and our kinswoman。〃
〃You look；〃 the Founder said brusquely。 Morgon； still in his hold； was jolted by the strength that poured out of him： energy that slapped at the shape…changers； flattened an oak in its way and sent frightened birds screaming into the air。 The silent thunder of the fire streaked towards their minds； Morgon felt it； but as at a distance； for the wizard had shielded his mind。 When the trees had splintered and settled； the shape…changers slowly reappeared out of the flock of birds that had startled into the air。 Their number had doubled； for half of them had been the motionless horses。 They took their previous shapes leisurely； while Ghisteslwchlohm watched； puzzled； Morgon sensed； about the extent of their power。 His grip had slackened。 A twig in a bush rustled slightly； for no discernible reason； and the shape…changers attacked。
There was a wave of black pelt； soundless； shell…black hooves rolling toward them so fast that Morgon barely had tune to react。 He worked an illusion of nothingness over himself that he suspected only Raederle noticed； she gasped when he gripped her wrist。 Something struck him： a horse's hoof； or the hilt of a shadowy blade； and he wavered an instant in and out of visibility。 He felt his muscles tense for a death blow。 But nothing touched him； only wind； for a few broken moments。 He flung his mind forward； miles ahead along the road； where a trader driving a wagon…load of cloth was whistling away his boredom。 He filled Raederle's mind with the same awareness and gripping her hard； pulled her forward into it。
A moment later he was lying with her at the bottom of the big covered cart； bleeding onto a bolt of embroidered linen。
VIII
RAEDERLE WAS SOBBING。 HE TRIED TO QUIET HER； gathering her to him as he listened； but she could not stop。 He heard beneath her weeping the grind of wheels in the dust and the driver's whistling； muffled by the bolts of cloth piled behind him and the canvas covering the wagon。 The road was quiet； he heard no sounds of disturbance behind them。 His head was aching； he leaned it against the linen。 His eyes closed。 A darkness thundered soundlessly toward him again。 Then a cartwheel banged into a pothole； jarring him； and Raederle twisted out of his hold and sat up。 She pushed her hair out of her eyes。
〃Morgon； he came for me at night； and I was barefoot； I couldn't even run。 I thought it was you。 I don't even have shoes on。 What in Hel's name was that harpist doing？ I don't understand him。 I don't。。。〃 She stopped suddenly； staring at him； as if he were a shape…changer she had found beside her。 She put one hand over her mouth； and touched his face with the other。 〃Morgon。。。〃
He put his hand to his forehead； looked at the blood on his fingers； and made a surprised sound。 The side of his face； from temple to jaw； was burning。 His shoulder hurt； his tunic fell apart when he touched it。 A raw； wide gash； like the scrape of a sharp hoof； continued from his face to his shoulder and halfway down his chest。
He straightened slowly； looking at the bloodstains he had left on the floor of the wagon； on the trader's fine cloth。 He shuddered suddenly； violently； and pushed his face against his knees。
〃I walked straight into that one。〃 He began to curse himself； vividly and methodically； until he heard her rise。 He caught her wrist； pulled her down again。 〃No。〃
〃Will you let go of me？ I'm going to tell the trader to stop。 If you don't let go； I'll shout。〃
〃No。 Raederle； listen。 Will you listen！ We are only a few miles west of where we were captured。 The shape…changers will search for us。 So will Ghisteslwchlohm； if he isn't dead。 We have to outrun them。〃
〃I don't even have shoes on！ And if you tell me to change shape； I will curse you。〃 Then she touched his cheek again； swallowing。 〃Morgon； can you stop crying？〃
〃Haven't I stopped？〃
〃No。〃 Her own eyes filled again。 〃You look like a wraith out of Hel。 Please let the trader help you。〃
〃No。〃 The wagon jerked to a stop suddenly； and he groaned。 He got to his feet unsteadily； drew her up。 The trader's startled face peered back at them between the falls of his canvas。
〃What in the name of the wolf…king's eyes are you doing back there？〃 He shifted the curtains so the light fell on them。 〃L