"A table would look better here," he announced, figuring that his host, Abaltister, could hear his every word. And so the chair became a table of polished wood with thick, curving supports carved with eyes and candles and rolled scrolls, the symbols of Cadderly's god and the brother god, Oghma.

Cadderly looked to the only apparent exit from the grand room, a wide hallway supported by sculpted arches running directly opposite the wall he had somehow walked through. He shifted the song of Deneir slightly, searching for invisible objects or other extradimensional pockets within this pocket, but saw no sign of Aballister.

The young priest moved to the table he had created, felt its smooth polish beneath its hands. He smiled as an inspiration - a divine inspiration, he mused - swept over him, then called upon his magic and reached out to the nearest tapestry, reweaving its design. He recalled the marvelous tapestry in the great hall of the Edificant Library, pictured its every detail in his mind, and made this one a n"arly exact replica.

A chair beside him became a writing desk, complete with an inkwell lined with Deneirian runes. A second tapestry became the scroll of Oghma, the words of the most holy prayer of that god replacing the former image, one of evil Talona and her poisoned dagger.

Cadderly felt his strength swell from the images of his own creations, felt as if his work was moving him closer to his god, his source of power. The more he altered the room, the more this place came to resemble a shrine at the Edificant Library, and the more the young priest's confidence soared. With every image of Deneirian worship he created, more loudly did the holy song play in Cadderly's thoughts and in his heart

Suddenly^ Aballister - it had to be Aballister - stood at the opening of the ornate hall.

"I have made some . . . improvements," Cadderly announced to the cross wizard, sweeping his arms out wide. His bravado might have hid his nervousness from his enemy, but Cadderly couldn't deny the moisture that covered his palms.

In a sudden motion, Aballister smacked his hands together and cried out a word of power that Cadderly did not recognize. Immediately, the new clerical dressings disappeared, leaving the room in its former state.

Something about the wizard's motion, about the sudden flash of anger from the obviously controlled man, struck a familiar chord in Cadderly, tugged at the edges of his consciousness from a distant place.

"I do not approve of the icons of false gods decorating my private chambers," the wizard said, his voice steady.

Cadderly nodded and brought an easy smile to his face; there really was no point in arguing.

The wizard walked to the side of the entrance, his dark robes trailing out mysteriously behind him, his hollowed gaze locked fully on the young priest Cadderly turned to keep himself squared to the man, studied every move the dangerous wizard made, and kept the song of Deneir flowing through his thoughts. Already several defensive spells were sorted out and in line, ready for Cadderly to release them.

"You have proven a great discomfort to me," Aballister said, his voice a wheeze, his throat injured from years of compelling forth mighty magics. "But also, a great benefit"

Cadderly concentrated on the tone of the voice, not on the specific words. Something about it haunted him, again from a distant place; something about it conjured images of Carradoon, of long ago.

"I might have missed all the fun, you see," Aballister went on. "I might have sat back here in comfort and let my formidable forces bring the peoples of the region under my thumb. I shall enjoy ruling - I do so love intrigue - but the conquest, too, can be... delicious. Do you not agree?"

"I have no taste for food gotten at the expense of others," Cadderly said.

"But you do!" the wizard declared immediately.

"No!" the young priest was even quicker to retort

The wizard laughed at him. "You are so proud of your accomplishments to date, of the conquests that have brought you to my door. You have killed, dear Cadderly. Killed men. Can you deny the delicious tingle of that act, the sense of power?"

The claim was absurd. The thought of killing, the act of killing, had brought nothing more than revulsion to Cadderly. Still, if the wizard had spoken to him thus a few weeks before, when the guilt of having killed Barjin hung thick around Cadderly's shoulders, the words would have been devastating. But not any more. Cadderly had come to accept what fate had placed in his path, had come to accept the role that had been thrust upon him. No longer did his soul mourn for the dead Barjin or for any of the others.

"I did as I was forced to do," he replied with sincere confidence. "This war should never have started, but if it must be played out, then I play to win." ��*

"Good," the wizard purred. "With justice on your side?"

"Yes." Cadderly did not flinch at all with the confident reply.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Aballister asked.

"I will be glad when the region is safe," Cadderly answered. This is not a question of pride. It is a question of morality, and, as you said, of justice."

"So cocksure," the wizard said with a soft chuckle, more to himself than to Cadderly. Aballister put a skinny finger to his pursed lips and studied the young priest intently, scanning Cadderly, every inch.

It seemed a curious gesture to the young priest, as though this man expected Cadderly, for some reason, to desire his approval, as though the wizard's estimation of Cadderly's-measure might be an important thing to the younger man.

"You are a proud young cock in a yard of foxes," the wizard announced at length. "A flash of confidence and brilliance that is quickly lost in a pool of blood."

"The issue is bigger than my pride," Cadderly said grimly.

The issue is your pride!" Aballister snapped back. "And my own. What is there in this misery that we call life beyond our accomplishments, beyond the legacy we shall leave behind?"

Cadderly winced at the words, at the thought that any man, particularly one intelligent enough to practice the art of wizardry, could be so singularly driven and self-absorbed.

"Can you ignore the suffering you have caused?" the young priest asked incredulously. "Do you not hear the cries of the dying and of those the dead have left behind?"

They do not matter!" Aballister growled, but the intensity of the denial led Cadderly to believe that he had struck a sensitive chord, that perhaps there was some flicker of conscience under this man's selfish hide. "/ am all that matters!" Aballister fumed. "My life, my goals."

Cadderly nearly swooned. He had heard those exact words before, spoken in exactly the same way. Again he pictured Carradoon, but the image was a foggy one, lost in the swirl of... of what? Cadderfy wondered. Of distance?

He looked up again to see the wizard chanting and waggling the fingers of one hand in the air before him, his other hand extended and holding a small metallic rod.

Cadderly silently berated himself for being so foolish as to let down his guard. He sang out the song with all his voice, frantic to get up his defenses before the wizard fried him.

The words stuck in Cadderly's throat as a lightning bolt thundered in, blinding him.

"Excellent!" the wizard applauded, seeing his blast absorbed into blue hues around the young priest

Cadderly, his vision returned, took measure of his protective shield, saw that the single attack had thinned it dangerously.

A second blast roared in, grounding out at Cadderly's feet, scorching the rug about him.

"How many can you stop?" the wizard cried, suddenly enraged. He took up his chant for a third time, and Cadderly knew that his protection spell would not deflect the full force of this one.

Cadderly reached into his pouch and pulled forth a handful of enchanted seeds. He had to strike fast, to interrupt the wizard's spell. He cried out a rune of enchantment and hurled the seeds across the room, triggering a series of popping, fiery explosions.

All images were stolen in the burst of swirling flames, but Cadderly was wise enough to doubt that his simple spell had defeated his foe. As soon as the seeds left his hand, he took up a new chant

Aballister stood trembling with rage. All the room about the wizard smoldered, several small fires sizzled and sparked along the folds of a magical tapestry behind him. He seemed uninjured, though, and the area immediately around him was unscathed.

"How dare you?" the wizard asked. "Do you not know who I am?"

The wild look in the wizard's eyes, purely incredulous, frightened Cadderly, brought back distant memories and distant images, and made the young priest feel small indeed. Cadderly didn't understand any of it - what unknown hold might this wizard have over him?

"Your magics fended the lightning," Aballister cackled. "How do you fare against fire?"

A small glowing globe arced through the air, and Cadderly, distracted, could not dispel its magic in time. The fireball engulfed the room, except for Aballister's protected area, and Cadderly glowed green, as the same defensive spell he had used against old Fyren's breath successfully defeated the attack.

But more'insidious were the aftershocks of the wizard's spell. Smoke poured from the tapestries; sparks flew from all directions at the continuing release of magical energies. Each one ignited a new green or blue spot on Cadderly's defensive shields, further wearing at them. And the young priest had no defense against the thick smoke stinging his eyes, stealing his breath.

Cadderly could hear that Aballister was casting again. Purely on reflex, the young priest threw up his clenched fist and cried out, "Fete.r A line of fire shot out from his ring at the same time Aballister's next lightning bolt thundered in.

This one blew away the blue globe, snaked through to slam Cadderly in the chest and hurl him backward into the burning wall. His hair danced wildly, his blue cape and the back rim of his wide hat smoldering from the hot contact.

The air cleared enough for him to see Aballister once more, standing unhurt, his hollowed face contorted in an expression of rage. What magics did he possess to get through the wizard's seemingly impenetrable globe? the young priest wondered. Cadderly had known all along that wizardry was a more potent offensive force than clerical magics, but he hadn't expected Aballister's defenses to be so formidable.

Panic welled in the young priest, but he focused on the sweet harmonies of the song and forced his fears away. He worked fast to create the same reflective field he had used against the manticore; his only chance was to turn the wizard's magic back against him.

Aballister worked faster, waggling his skinny fingers again and uttering some quick runes. Bursts of greenish energy erupted from his fingertips and hurtled across the room. The first burned painfully into Cadderly's shoulder. The young priest stubbornly held his concentration, though, enacting the shimmering field, and the second missile, and the three Sying behind that, seemed to disappear for an instant and then appear again, heading back the way they had come.

Aballister's eyes widened with surprise, and he instinctively started to dodge aside. As it had with Cadderly's spells, though, the wizard's globe absorbed the energy.

"Damn you!" the frustrated Aballister cried. Out shot the metallic rod, in thundered another lightning bolt, and Cad-derly, still dazed and pained from the previous hits, still trying to find his breath in the thick smoke, ducked away.

The lightning blasted into the reflective field and shot back out the other way, smashing against Aballister's globe, throwing multicolored sparks in every direction.

"Damn you!" Aballister growled again.

Cadderly noted the frustration, wondered if the wizard might be running out of attack spells or if his globe neared the end of its duration. The battered young priest tried to hold on to that hope, to use Aballister's obvious distress as a litany against the pain and the hopelessness. He tried to tell himself that Deneir was with him, that he was not overmatched.

Another lightning bolt sizzled in, this one low, cutting a wake in the carpet and slipping under Cadderly's shield. The young priest felt the burst under his feet, felt himself flying suddenly, spinning in the air. %

"Not so large a shield!" Aballister cried out, his tone brimming with confidence once more. "And pray tell, how does it handle angles?"

Lying on the floor, trying to shake away the stunning effects, Cadderly realized that he was about to die. He focused his thoughts on the wizard's last question, saw the wizard chanting again, holding that metal rod, but looking to the side, to the wall.

Desperation grabbed hold of the young priest, an instinctual urge to survive that momentarily numbed him from the pain. He heard the song of Deneir, remembered the bridge he had dropped in Carradoon and the walls he had caused to bite in the mountain valley. Frantically, he searched out the elemental makeup of the bare wall behind him.

Aballister's, lightning bolt hit the wall to the side and deflected at a right angle. Cadderly, reaching for the wall behind him, grabbed its stone with his magical energy and pulled a section of the slab out, reshaping it

The lightning bolt hit the back wall, would have deflected again at the perfect angle to destroy Cadderly, except that the wall's surface had changed, was now angled differently. The bouncing blast shot out straight across the room, again slamming the wizard's globe to shower harmlessly in multicolored sparks.

Still on the floor, Cadderly closed his eyes and fell more deeply into the song. More magical missiles came in, leaping around the reflective field, diving in to scorch and slam at the young priest. The divine song compelled Cadderly to fall into its sweetest notes, the notes of healing magic, but Cadderly understood that the delay created by attending to his wounds would only invite more attacks from the wizard.

He pushed the song in a different direction, heard the croak of his pained voice, and thought he would surely suffocate from the acrid smoke. Another missile slammed his face, scorching his cheek, feeling as if it had burned right to the bone.

Cadderly sang out with all his strength, followed the song into the elemental plane of fire, and pulled from there a hovering ball of flame that shot a line of fire down on the wizard.

Cadderly couldn't see any of it, but he heard Aballister's agonized cry, heard retreating footsteps clicking on the stone of the hallway beyond the room. The smoke continued to thicken, to choke him.

He had to get out!

Cadderly tried to hold his breath, but found no breath to hold. He tried to grab at the song, but his mind was too numb, too filled with confused images of his own impending death. He kicked and crawled, grabbing at torn carpet edges and pulling himself along blindly, hoping that he could remember the exact course out of the room.

Danica spent a long while staring blankly at Dorigen. Unsure of her feelings and stunned by the news that Dorigen had just given her, the monk had no idea of where to turn or where to go. And what was Danica to do with this dangerous adversary, this woman she had battled before, this woman she had told Cadderly to kill when he had Dorigen down and helpless in Shilmista Forest?

"I have no intention of interfering with this," Dorigen said, trying to answer some of the questions etched plainly on Danica's delicate features. "Against Cadderly or against you and your other friends."

Other friends! In all the craziness of the last few minutes - the fight with the hydra, the desperate attempt to get at the wizard Aballister - Danica had almost forgotten them.

"Where are they?" the monk demanded. Dorigen held her hands out, her expression curious.

"We were separated in a corridor," Danica explained, realizing that Dorigen probably did not know the course that had gotten her to this room. "A corridor lined with many traps. Darkness engulfed us, and the end of the corridor tilted as one tried to pass through."

The clerical halls area," Dorigen interrupted. They are quite adept at defending their territory."

The woman's obviously derisive tone as she mentioned the clerics gave Danica hope that the apparent rivalries within Castle Trinity might reveal a weakness.

The dwarves and the elf fell through trapdoors," Danica went on, though she wondered if she might be giving her enemy information that could be used to the detriment of her lost friends. Danica sensed that she could trust Dorigen, had to trust Dorigen, and that realization put her doubly on her guard, again bringing fears that the wizard had used some enchantment on her. Danica reached within herself, sought out her discipline and her strong will. Few charms could affect one of her rigid mental training, especially if she was aware that one might be in place.

When she focused again on Dorigen, the wizard was slowly shaking her head, her expression grim.

The giant went through a side chute," Danica went on, wanting to finish her thought before the woman cast some evil tidings over her.

Then the giant has probably fared better than the others," Dorigen said. The chute would place him in a lower passage, but the trapdoors..." She let the thought hang ominously, slowly shaking her head.

"If they are dead..." Danica warned, similarly letting the words hang unfinished. She dropped into a defensive position as Dorigen stood up behind the desk.

"Let us discover their fete," the wizard replied, taking no apparent heed of the threat Then we might better decide our next actions."

Danica had just begun to stand straight when the room's door flew open and a contingent of several armed guardsmen, a mix of men and ores, rushed in. Danica leaped straight for Dorigen, but the wizard uttered a quick spell and vanished, leaving the monk to grab at empty air.

Danica spun about to face the approaching soldiers, six of them, fanning out with weapons drawn.

"Hold!" came a cry as Dorigen reappeared, standing along the wall behind the soldiers. The soldiers skidded to a stop and glanced back incredulously at Dorigen.

"I have declared a truce," Dorigen explained. She looked directly at Danica as she continued, The fighting is ended, at least until greater issues can be resolved."

None of the fighters put up their swords. They glanced from the monk to the wizard, then looked to each other for some explanation, as though they feared that they were being deceived.

"What is you about?" one burly ore demanded of the wizard. "I gots fifty dead in the dinner hall."

Danica's eyes sparkled at the news; perhaps her friends were indeed still alive.

"Fifty dead, and where are the enemies?" Danica had to ask.

"Shut up!" the ore roared at her, and Danica smiled at its unbridled anger. An ore rarely cared for the deaths of companions as long as the threat to its own worthless hide had been eradicated.

The truce stands," Dorigen declared.

The burly ore looked to the soldier standing beside it, another ore, its filthy hands wringing its sword hilt anxiously. Danica knew that they were silently deciding whether or not to attack, and it seemed as if the wizard believed the same thing, for Dorigen was chanting softly.

Dorigen blinked out of sight once more; the ores turned to Danica, roared, and came on.

Dorigen reappeared right in front of the burly ore, her hands out before her, thumbs touching and fingers wide spread. The ore threw its arms up defensively, but the sheets of flame that suddenly erupted from the wizard's fingertips rolled around the meager fleshy barriers, licked at the creature's face and chest

The other ore came in hard at Danica. She started for the desk, hopping as though she meant to go over it. The ore swerved, heading for the side, but Danica dropped back to her feet, and kicked its sword out wide. It tried to bring the weapon back in to bear, but Danica caught its wrist, then caught its chin with her free hand. She whipped the monster's head back and forth fiercely, then snapped a quick punch to its throat that dropped it in a gasping heap.

Danica's foot was upon the side of the ore's face in an instant, ready to snap its neck if any of its companions were advancing.

They were not, and all but one of them had replaced their weapons on their belts. The single enemy still holding his sword looked at Dorigen and the smoking corpse before her, looked at the fierce Danica, and quickly decided that his remaining friends were wise in putting up their weapons.

"I declare a truce," Dorigen growled at the soldiers, and none of them made any moves to indicate that they did not agree. Dorigen turned to Danica and nodded. To the dining halL"

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