01 THE TIME OF THE DARK

Janus shook his head wearily. "They've been coming up the mountain all day," he said. "A great train of them formed around us when we left the Palace. They've been pouring up the road ever since. And three-quarters of them are without food. It isn't entirely fear of the Dark that makes them leave Gae-even with all the Guards and Alwir's regiments, Gae is broken. There's a madness in the town, even by daylight. All law is gone. We rode in just after dawn, to the relief of the Palace, and people were already looting it. Every farm within ten miles of the city has been abandoned-harvests rotting in the fields while refugees starve on the roads. Karst's a small town, and they're fighting over food here already, and over water, and for space in every building. We may be safe here from the Dark, but by tomorrow I'll wager we're not safe from one another."

"And what," Ingold asked quietly, "makes you think you're safe here from the Dark?"

Shocked, the big man started to protest, then fell silent. The Bishop slid her eyes sideways at Ingold, like a cat, and purred, "And what, my lord Ingold, know you of the Dark?"

"Only what we all know," a new voice said. Such was the quality of it, deep and regal, like a fine-tuned woodwind played by a master, that all eyes turned toward the speaker, the man who stood like a dark king, gilded by the glare of the torches. His shadow rippled down before him like water as he descended; like a second shadow, the wings of his black velvet cloak belled behind him. His pale face was coldly handsome, the regular fleshly features marked with thought and wisdom as with a carefully wielded graving tool. The wavy raven-black hair that framed his face half-obscured the chain of gold and sapphires that glittered over his shoulders and breast like a ring of cold blue eyes. "There is a certain amount of profit and prestige attendant upon warnings of disaster, as we all have seen."

"There is profit only for those who will heed them, my lord Alwir," Ingold replied mildly, and his gesture took in the smoke-fouled shadows of the room behind them, the grubby mob that had for the most part gone back to chattering among themselves, chasing children, arguing over space and water. "And sometimes even that is not enough."

"As my lord Eldor found." The Chancellor Alwir stood for a moment, his height and elegance dominating the small, shabby form of the wizard. His face, naturally rather sensual, was controlled into a cool mask of immobility, but Gil sensed in the posture of his big, powerful body the tension and distrust between the two men that looked to be of long standing. Alwir was annoyed, Ingold wary. "Indeed," the Chancellor went on, "his warning was the first; the stirring of the memories of the House of Dare long buried in his family. Yet that did not save him. We surmised that you had taken the Prince and fled the battle, when we did not find your sword in the rubble of the hall-though indeed there were enough of the fighters, toward the end, who snatched up the weapons of the fallen to make that not a sure clue. Was it possible, then, for you to assume the form of the Dark and so escape their notice?"

"No," Ingold replied, without elaboration. But a murmuring went through those nearest the table-for the hall was crowded to the bursting-point, and the conference between wizard and Chancellor, though conducted in low tones, had at least two hundred onlookers besides the five who stood closest to them. Gil, standing half-forgotten with the sleeping child in her arms and her back to the monstrous newel post of the granite stair, could see the glances men gave to Ingold. Fear, awe, and distrust; he was uncanny, an alien even in the Realm. A maverick-wizard, she realized suddenly, and subject to neither king nor law. People could believe of him, and evidently did, that he could take the form of the Dark,

"And yet you contrived it somehow," Alwir went on. "And for that we thank you. Will you be remaining in Karst?"

"Why did you leave Gae?"

Dark, graceful brows lifted, startled and amused at the question. "My dear Ingold, had you been there-"

"I was there," Ingold said quietly. "In Gae at least there was water, food, and buildings in which to hide sufficient for all. At least there one could be reasonably safe from one's fellow man."

"Karst is certainly smaller," Alwir conceded, glancing deprecatingly about him at the jammed, airless cavern of the smoky hall. "But my men and the City Guards under the able leadership of Commander Janus can control the people more easily than in that crazy half-burned labyrinth that is all that remains of the most beautiful city in the West of the World. The Dark haunt the river valleys," he went on, "like the marsh sickness of the south; but, like the marsh sickness, they shun the high ground. It may be possible to make a pact with them, such as the mountain sheep make with the lions of the plain. To avoid the lion, one stays clear of his runs."