"You are certain he is here?" said Lasseter, concern apparent in his voice. "Where did you see him?"

"I didn't see him," said Endrick, shuddering. "Brrr, I'm glad of that. I saw his ship in the hangar. There was no mistaking it. The thing looks as menacing as its master."

"Indeed," replied Lasseter, rubbing his short beard meditatively, "One of the citizens was in here earlier raving about the trackers. He claims he was stung right here in Arsolon."

"The trackers, too!"

"Did you secure a ship?"

Endrick nodded. "If you can call it a ship. But I suppose it will have to do."

"Let us pray Krom is passenger on it come the morrow."

"If he isn't," replied Endrick, "I'm eating his breakfast."

The three companions went to bed that night without word or sign from Krom. Skylar found it difficult to sleep; his mind swirled with thoughts of Morvath, the dreaded mechanical insects, and his concern for Krom. The number of his companions was dwindling. First Grim. Now Krom. Could Krom be dead, too? The possibility haunted him. Only after several hours of lying on his cot, did he finally fall into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, he awoke feeling as anxious and unrested as he had before he fell asleep. Still no sign of Krom. Silently, as if in observance of Krom's death, the three remaining companions packed their belongings, ate a hurried breakfast, and set off on foot for the port.

"It's just on the southern edge of the city," said Endrick. "We'll be there shortly."

It was news that both comforted and distressed Skylar. For at every turn he expected—he hoped—to see Krom. And at any second he expected to hear that awful buzzing of the Trackers coming after him.

They had not been walking long when Lasseter whispered from behind, "we are being followed. Increase you speed, but do not run or look back."

Endrick and Skylar obeyed these orders. Skylar's didn't think his legs could walk any faster. Yet it felt as if they were moving in slow motion. If only we all had jetwings.

"They are getting closer." warned Lasseter. "Faster."

Calves burnings, Skylar forced his legs to increase their stride. Who could be following them? Could it be Morvath? Perhaps more of his special servants? The thought chilled his bones quicker than the frosty morning air.

They rounded a corner and Skylar saw the port come into view. They could make it. It seemed within arm's reach, and yet unreachable. He wanted to run. Closer, closer they came.

Suddenly, from out of a side alley, the shapes of half-a-dozen men stepped out into the street, barring their way. Endrick moved to go around them, but the men spread out like the jaws of a trap to catch them. The companions halted.

"Kindly let us pass," said Endrick forcefully. "We have much haste this morning."

More footsteps sounded in Skylar's ear from behind. Whoever had been following the companions had caught up. They were surrounded and outnumbered severely.

"We'll let you pass just as soon as you give us what we want," said one who appeared to be their leader. "It wasn't courteous of you to snub my hospitality last night and injure my men."

Skylar started.

The man drew back his hood to reveal his face. Madrick.

The leader of thieves sneered at the companions triumphantly, his dark eyes full of malice.

"What then? Did you think I would not find you? I am not so easily duped."

Then he added, noticing Krom's absence. "You have lost one. But it is no matter."

"Let us pass, Madrick," demanded Lasseter, his voice filled with authority. "You have no quarrel with us."

Madrick's eyes narrowed, the sides of his mouth turned up in a malignant smile.

"You are right. I seek no quarrel—only the boy. Give him up, and you two may go free."

Lasseter moved protectively in front of Skylar.

"The boy is of no consequence. Let him alone."

"No consequence? Oh, I think you will find there is one who disagrees with that. One with power is searching for a lad like this one. A handsome reward he's offered, and even favors from the empire."

"Do not be a fool," said Lasseter coldly. "Do you believe Morvath will lavish favors and blessing upon the heads of outlaws? He may sustain you now, but in the end your death shall come to you at his command."

"I'll take my chances. Now, give us the boy or you'll meet your own deaths."

In one swift motion Lasseter swept back the folds of his cloak, drew out his sword, thrust out, and stopped just before piercing Madrick's throat.

"On your own death, Madrick," growled Lasseter with a passion Skylar never beheld in his uncle.

Madrick struck at Lasseter's blade with his forearm just as Lasseter drove it forward. The sword tore his skin, but missed its mark. Hunched and clasping his throat with his hand, Madrick scurried to safety away from Lasseter.

"Get down!" shouted Lasseter to Skylar as he and Endrick transformed into two lethal blades twirling like whirwinds in the air. The two bandits closest to Lasseter and Endrick went down before they could lift their weapons. The others moved quickly, though. Two of Madrick's band leapt upon Endrick. One grabbed him from behind while the other slashed his arm with a dagger. Endrick cried out in pain, but managed to knock his assailant across the face with the pommel of his sword.

Skylar moved to attack the bandit on Endrick's back. Several strong hands seized him as he did so, pulling him away from his companions. He fought furiously, but to no avail. Madrick was shouting orders.

"The boy—get the boy!"

They were dragging Skylar away. All he could do was watch helplessly as Lasseter and Endrick fought the bandits, outnumbered, three-to-one. They fought boldly, but they were clearly out matched.

Lasseter knocked one bandit to the ground, then countered the attacks of the other two, striking a blow that felled another dead. It was then that Lasseter looked up to discover Skylar being dragged away. In desperation, he pounded at his last standing opponent with such a wild fury that the bandit went flying to the dirt. Then Lasseter turned and bounded after Skylar. No sooner had he taken two strides than the third bandit sprang forward from the ground and buried the blade of his dagger into the back of Lasseter's lower leg. With an anguished cry, Lasseter collapsed to his knees, but swiftly twisted round, and brought his elbow crashing into the bandit's nose. Lasseter attempted to regain his feet; again his leg faltered and gave out. Emboldened by Lasseter's wound, the bandit charged at him, knocking him flat on the ground. Then he raised his dagger to strike.

"No!" cried Skylar.

It was useless. There was nothing he could do. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the planets and stars in the galaxy all revolving around the blood-stained tip of that blade.

Suddenly the bandit cried out and fell over, dead.

"Halt! Drop your weapons" commanded a loud voice.

Skylar looked up. City guards! A whole troop of them came storming onto the scene, blasters in arms, their bright armor glinting in the early morning light. At the sight of the soldiers Madrick and his men scattered like frightened rats into the alleyways and side streets. Skylar's captors instantly let go of his arms and he hit the ground hard. Several soldiers dashed past him in close pursuit of the bandits.

Lasseter, Endrick and Skylar were all arrested. Three men lay dead upon the dusty streets of Arsolon. The captain of the guards would not hear of letting anyone involved go free.

"You shall present your case before Lord Denovyn. Save your pleas for him."

The guards shackled the companions' hands and then ushered them into the back of an armored transport meant for prisoners.

Both Lasseter and Endrick were wounded and bleeding badly. As best he could with his shackled hands, Lasseter tore off a piece of cloth from the hem of his tunic and pressed it firmly against Endrick's arm.

"Don't bother about me," said Endrick. "Never liked that arm much, anyway."

It was a weak protest and Lasseter ignored it, for the wound was deep.

"We need to staunch the bleeding. Later we'll worry about applying medicines and dressing it."

"If there is a later," replied Endrick sourly. "These guards are taking us directly to where we don't want to go: to Morvath."

"Very likely."

"To Morvath!" cried Skylar. "Then why didn't we try to escape the guards? We've come all this way just to be caught at the last moment."

"Skylar," said Lasseter calmly, "there was no other option for us. Still, all hope is not lost. Denovyn is yet alive and in command of the city; you heard the guard speak of him. We must hope he is still a friend to our cause."

"A friend?" said Skylar dubiously. "If he were a friend, Krom would be with us now."

"Perhaps. Perhaps, not. I'm inclined to believe Morvath's presence has more to do with Krom's absence than anything Denovyn might have done. Alas, we cannot know. Our hope lies in this: if Denovyn is loyal to you, he will not permit any harm to come to you in his domain. Morvath will not dare to oppose him, for news of it would spread throughout the people, raising calamity and possibly rebellion among them. No, I believe Morvath possesses less power here than you might expect."

Lasseter leaned forward in his seat and stared at Skylar grimly.

"His power lies in your own weakness, my boy. He will try to win you over. He will try to make you join him. And if you do not have the truth firmly rooted in your heart, he shall have you without ever lifting a finger."

Skylar swallowed hard. The mere mention of Morvath's name made his nape hairs stiffen. How would it be to stand alone in Morvath's presence?

Shortly thereafter the transport came to a halt. The guards filed the companions out of the transport's rear holding cell. They were at the foot of a broad staircase leading up to a stone building, which stretched to the left and right of them for several blocks. Except for large glass windows running along the front, the building was unadorned.

Spurred along at blaster-point, the companions mounted the steps, passed under an archway, and entered through two prodigious wooden doors. Doors which gaped open like the jaws to the underworld, waiting hungrily to swallow them whole. For through those doors, Morvath—the very Devil himself—lurked inside, hiding within some dark corner, wringing his hands in anticipation. Skylar suddenly felt grateful that it was morning. Facing Morvath at night seemed all the more terrifying.

The doorway led to a lengthy hallway with a high ceiling and burnished wood floors. Paintings, hung at even intervals, decorated the walls. All of them portrayed the bust or full figure of some noble-looking man. Previous lords of the providence, no doubt. Their faces were all grim and solemn, as if they knew the fate that awaited him. Numerous doors, too, lined both sides of the hall. Doors from which at any moment Morvath might spring upon him.

The hallway emptied into a great hall, with numerous corridors extending out on both their right and left sides. Colorful banners and flags of state hung from the protracted ceiling. Straight down the hall they were taken, until they halted at the far wall. Before them stood a pair of double doors. They were of that same wood as the floors and on each of its six panels was carved the shape of a single sun.

The leader of the guards rapped on the door with the great bronze knocker, then opened the rightmost door and stepped inside. Endrick gave Skylar a look that seemed to say, "let's hope they don't wish to see us." Skylar hoped it would be so. A minute later, the officer returned, signaled curtly to his men, and Skylar found himself being pushed through the doorway.

Floor-to-ceiling windows ran the length of the wall at their left. Their curtains drawn back, the morning light streamed in brightly. Yet despite the brightness, Skylar shivered with cold. This room felt colder than the air outside. He thought of the citadel on Dura Cragis.

At the end of the room stood a man behind a finely carved desk, which matched the doors. He was looking with fixed attention at Skylar. The man possessed a proud, noble bearing that no commoner could imitate. Yet in his eyes there was a look of truth and honor.

"These are the ones disrupting the peace of my city streets, Captain?" asked the man. "These three? Two men and a boy committing violence among my citizens?" his tone was incredulous.

"There were others, Lord Denovyn," stammered the captain. "Half-a-dozen, or more, Sir. They fled the scene when we came upon them. My men are rounding them up now, my lord. They won't escape."

"And these three, Captain...they did not try to flee?"

"No, my lord. They came peacefully."

"Yet you believe they are to blame for the violence?"

The captain shifted uncomfortably, his rigid stance momentarily breaking. Denovyn's questions were casting a shadow of a doubt on the captain's judgment.

"My lord," continued the captain, obviously struggling to choose his words carefully. "There are three dead. And these two have swords."

"Who are those which are slain?"

"We have not identified them. But they appear to be no more than bandits. Like those who fled from us."

"Likely of those accursed thieves who have plagued my city for nigh a year. You there—"

Denovyn pointed his forefinger at Endrick.

"Tell me, Sir, were any of these slain men companions of yours?"

"No, my lord, they were not."

"Thank you."

Denovyn inclined his head respectfully to Endrick.

"Captain, you say six or more of these rogues escaped you? Add these three and that's nine or ten men. Nine or ten men against two men and a boy?" He paused to let the full weight of the question press down upon the captain, fixing him with his dark eyes and raised brow.

"Captain," he continued before the captain could form an excuse, "in the future, I hope you will

exercise better judgment when making your arrests."

"Yes, my lord," replied the captain humbly.

"That is all, Captain. You are dismissed."

Nodding curtly, the captain turned stiffly on his heels, then strode toward the door.

"And Captain," added Denovyn, his voice sounding less severe. The captain paused midstride and cocked his head to one side. "Catch those bandits and all this will be forgotten." Again, the captain nodded, then was gone.

Lord Denovyn then turned his attention to the companions. His face seemed to have transformed in an instant, from commander to gracious host. Skylar could see that Denovyn was a powerful leader. He had no desire to punish the captain, only to reprove him, to hone his sense of justice. Denovyn was not angry. Anger cannot be dispelled so promptly.

"I offer you my apologies for this arrest," he said. "The captain of my guard is a valiant and skilled man. Yet I fear he can be overzealous at times when arrests are concerned.

"I pride myself on the safety of my streets," he went on, slowly making his way round his desk.

He was rather large in stature, and walked with a firm, resolute gait. In his crisp white jacket, hanging with medals and lined with polished silver buttons, he looked more a commanding general than a governing lord.

He drew near the companions.

"Ah, but you are wounded," he said seeing Lasseter and Endrick's bloody bandages. "You are all three free to go, but I must insist that my medics treat your injuries before you depart."

"You are very gracious, my lord," replied Lasseter from the depths of this hood. "Our wounds are not serious and we have lost precious time."

"As you wish. Guards, see these three safely on their way."

Denovyn gave them a brief bow of his bead, then returned to his desk.

Skylar couldn't believe his ears. Free to go? And there was no sign of Morvath anywhere. They would make it to their ship after all. His fists, which had remained clenched throughout the entire interview finally relaxed. His heart ceased its heavy pounding.

One of the guards stopped in front of them and indicated with his hand for them to turn and leave the room. Just before Skylar turned, a stirring at the far end of the room caught his eye. A flitting of shadow against the wall. Then a chill. A chill he'd only experienced once before, in the citadel of Dura Cragis. Skylar caught his breath.

The shadow shifted, morphed, into a solid form. How could it be? It seemed impossible that in such a bright room anyone, anything, could hide in the faint shadows undetected. But there it was—the cloaked form of some being, flowing unnaturally toward Denovyn, as though his feet did not touch the floor.

Everyone else in the room had likewise frozen, like men caught under an enchantment. Lord Denovyn cocked his head slightly. The cloaked figure was evidently whispering something in his ear. Denovyn, though calmer than the governor of Dura Cragis had appeared, swallowed uncomfortably.

"As you wish, my lord," Skylar heard Denovyn whisper in reply. And the dark figure floated back toward the wall. "Hold, guards," commanded Denovyn. "The king's minister has requested a private audience with the lad."

Skylar took a step backwards, a wild fear suddenly seizing him. Lasseter put a hand on his shoulder.

"He is but a boy," protested Lasseter. "Tarus' minister can have no interest in him."

Denovyn nodded understandingly and came round his desk again.

"I assure you, the lad will be fine. Come, I shall personally see that your wounds are cared for. You shan't have to wait long."

Skylar felt Lasseter's hand squeeze tighter on his shoulder, then release. That was all. Lasseter did not argue further. It was pointless to do so. Lasseter and Endrick turned and walked slowly out of the office.

As his companions left, Denovyn briefly paused and looked into Skylar's face, a face that told him not to be afraid, to stand strong. Yet for all his comforting, when those doors closed and there was no one between him and Morvath, Skylar felt only one desire: to run.