feel Utanyeat's wrath…but decided against it。 Something about Hayholt's silent corridors made him unwilling to attract attention。 Besides； he told himself； the curly…haired wench was not worth the beating down of doors。
He stepped away； rubbing his bristled chin； and saw something pale moving at the turning of the hall； near the edge of his vision。 He whirled； startled； but found nothing there。 He walked a few steps and leaned around the corner。 The hall beyond was also empty。 A breathless whisper drifted along the passageway…a woman's low voice； muttering as if in pain。 Guthwulf turned on his heel and stalked back toward his chamber。
Night tricks； he grumbled to himself。 Doors locked； corridors empty…the whole damnable； Bleeding Usires castle might as well be deserted！
He stopped； suddenly； looking around。 What hallway was this？ He did not recognize the polished tiles； the oddly…shaped banners hanging shadowed on the dark wall。 Unless he had made a wrong turning and lost his way； this should be the chapel's walking…hall。 He retraced his way back to the forking of the hall and turned； taking the other route。 Now； although this new corridor was featureless but for a few window…slits； he was sure he had found his way once more。
He grabbed at the base of one of the windows and pulled himself up； hanging by his strong arms。 Outside would be either the front or side of the chapel courtyard。 。 。 。
Startled； Guthwulf let go and slid the short distance back to the ground。 His knees buckled； dropping him to the floor。 He rolled quickly to his feet； heart pounding； and reached for the window slit to haul himself up again。
It was the chapel courtyard； sunk in deep night； just as it should be。
But what then had he seen the first time？ There had been white walls and the forest of looming spires that he had first taken for trees； then recognized in an instant later as towers…a forest of slim minarets； ivory needles that caught the moonlight and glowed as if full…charged with it！ The Hayholt had no such towers！
But there！ Again the evidence of his eyes confirmed that all was right and usual。 There was the courtyard； the chapel door and awning； the shrubs standing beside the pathways like drowsy sheep。 Beyond； he could just make out the moonbathed silhouette of Green Angel Tower…a solitary sky…pointing finger where a moment before he had seen a dozen hands raised in supplication。
He dropped to his feet and leaned against the cold stone。 Then what had he seen that first time？ Night tricks？ No； this was more！ This was sickness； or madness 。。。 or witchcraft！
After a moment he collected himself。 Steady； you fool。 He stood up； shaking his head。 These aren't the fruits of madness； but of too much pondering； too much womanish worry。 My sire used to sit up at night staring wide…eyed at the fire and claimed he saw ghosts there。 StilI； he was fit enough in his head when he died； and lived a full seventy summers。 No； it is all this thought about the king that is preying on me。 Black witchcraft may be all around us…God knows； I'm last to argue against it after what I've seen this cursed year…but not here in the Hayholt。
Guthwulf knew the castle had belonged to the Fair Folk once； many hundreds of years ago； but now it was so wound about with spells and charms against them that surely there was no other spot on earth in which they were less wele。
No； he thought； it is the way the king has changed that fills my mind with strange thoughts： how Ellas shifts from moment to moment； from lunatic anger to childish worry。
He walked to the door at the end of the hallway and out into the courtyard。 Everything was as he had last seen it。 A solitary light burned in one of the windows across the garden； in the king's private rooms。
Elias is awake。 He pondered this for a moment。 He has not slept well since Josua first began plotting against him。
Guthwulf strode across the courtyard toward the king's residence； the unseasonable breeze frisking about his bare ankles。 He would talk to his old friend Elias； here in the empty hours of night when men told the truth。 He would demand to know about Pryrates and about the horrible army Elias has summoned； the host that had e down on Naglimund like a plague of white locusts。 Guthwulf and the king had been rades in arms too long for the earl to allow their friendship to fall apart like rusting armor。 Tonight they would talk。 Guthwulf would find out just what dire troubles caused his old rade to act so strangely。 It would be their first chance in a year to speak without Pryrates hovering close by； watching with those black ferret's eyes； listening to every word。
The courtyard doorway was locked； but the great key Elias had given him on his succession to the throne still hung on a cord around Guthwulf s neck。 His soldier's practicality had not allowed him to take it off； even though it had been many months since Elias had called on him to undertake a secret mission。
The locks had not been changed。 The heavy door swung inward without a sound； Guthwulf was grateful for that； although he did not know why。 As he mounted the stairs toward the king's residence； he was astonished to find not even a single guard in place before the inner door。 Was Elias so sure of his power that he did not even fear assassination？ Surely that did not accord with his behavior since he had returned from the siege of Naglimund？
At the top of the stairs Guthwulf heard muffled voices。 Suddenly full of misgivings； he leaned forward； placing his ear near the keyhole。
He frowned。 I should've known； he thought sourly。 I would recognize Pryrates' jackal…barking anywhere。 Curse the unnatural bastard； can he give the king no peace？
As he debated whether he should knock； he heard the king's low murmur。 A third voice froze Guthwulfs hand in midair； knuckles poised before the doorframe。
This last voice was high…pitched and sweet； but there was something alien in its tone； something inhuman in its music。 It acted on his senses like a plunge in cold water； bringing up the hair on the back of his arms and setting a shiver into his breath。 He thought he recognized the words 〃sword〃 and 〃mountains〃 before the numbing fear overcame him。 He stepped back from the door so quickly he almost tumbled down the stairs。
Have those hell…things e here？ he wondered。 He wiped his sweating palms on his nightshirt and retreated a step down from the landing。 What devil's work is this？ Has Elias lost his mind？ His soul？
The voices rose in volume； then the door squeaked as someone lifted the inside bolt。 All thought of confronting Elias gone； the Earl of Utanyeat knew only that he did not want to be found listening at the keyhole…did not want to meet the thing that spoke so strangely。 He looked around distractedly for a place to hide； but the staircase was narrow。 He vaulted down the steps in a rush； but had only just reached the outer door when he heard footsteps on the landing above。 Guthwulf ducked into the alcove beneath the stairway； pushing himself back into the shadows as the steps creaked。 Two figures； one more distinct than the other； paused in the doorway。
〃The king is pleased with this news；〃 Pryrates was saying。 The darker shape beside him said nothing。 A smear of white face gleamed in the depths of its dark hood。 Pryrates stepped through the door； his scarlet garments showing deep violet…blue in the moonlight as he pivoted his bald head this way and that； looking carefully。 A shadow followed him out into the garden。
Anger suddenly rose inside Guthwulf； overwhelming even his unreasoning fear。 That the master of Utanyeat should cower under stairs…and from something that the cursed priest treated as panionably as a country uncle！
〃Pryrates！〃 Guthwulf cried； stepping out from beneath the stairway。 〃I would have a word with you 。。。〃
The earl's slippered feet crunched to a halt on the gravel。 The priest stood before him； alone in the middle of the path。 The wind sighed in the hedges； but there was no other sound； no other movement but the faint rippling of leaves。
〃Earl Guthwulf；〃 Pryrates said； wrinkling his hairless brow in apparent surprise； 〃what are you