- then there was a thud
and pound of black hooves
as she wheeled her mount
and fled into the forest.

The magician flung down his
cloak in rage.

She held a guard - a
counter-
spell, a rune
of protection,
and came only
when he was
least prep-
ared to follow.

Who could be
guiding her?
There was
Prince Kandive
of Kaiin, Azvan
the astronomer,
or Turjan -
No, hardly Turjan, Maz-
arian thought.

He put the thought
aside; Azvan, at
least, he could test.

Stay the strokes,
Mazarian! Strike
no more on the gong
of my life!

Do you spy on me, Asvan?
Do you send a woman to
regain the gong? You
must deliver me the
woman, Azvan; I insist.

Impossible, master!
I fear you to well.
I know not who or
what she is!