sighed. “As you will. But the book remains. Read it or not, the
choice is yours. Destroy it even, if you wish.” He drained off
the remainder of his ale, set the glass carefully on the table, and
looked down at his gnarled hands. “I am finished here.”
He came around the table and stood before the other. “Good-
bye, Walker. I would stay if it would help. I would give you
whatever it is within my power to give you if you would take it.
But you are not yet ready. Another day, perhaps.”
He turned then and disappeared into the night. He did not
look back as he went. He did not deviate from his course. Walker
Boh watched him fade away, a shadow gone back into the dark-
ness that had made him.
The cottage, as if by his going, turned empty and still.
“It will be dangerous, Par,” Damson Rhee whispered. “If
there were a safer way, I should snatch it up in an instant.”
Par Ohmsford said nothing. They were deep within the Peo-
ple’s Park once more, crouched in the shadows of a grove of
cedar just beyond the broad splash of light cast by the lamps of
the Gatehouse. It was midway toward dawn, the deepest, fullest
hours of sleep, when everything slowed to a crawl amid dreams
and rememberings. The Gatehouse rose up against the moonlit
darkness like massive blocks stacked one upon the other by a
careless child. Barred windows and bolted doors were shallow
indentations in a skin made rough and coarse by weather and
J. The walls warding the ravine ran off to either side and the
rossing bridge stretched away behind, a spider web connecting
to the tumbledown ruin of the old palace. A watch had been
stationed before the main entry where a pair of matched iron
portals stood closed behind a hinged grate of bars. The watch
dozed on its feet, barely awake in the enveloping stillness. No
sound or movement from the Gatehouse disturbed their rest.
“Can you remember enough of him to’ conjure up a like-
ness? ” Damson asked, her words a brush of softness against his
ear. Par nodded. It was not likely he would ever forget the face
of Rimmer Dall.
She was quiet a moment. “If we are stopped, keep their
attention focused on yourself. I will deal with any threats.”
He nodded once more. They waited, motionless within their
concealment, listening to the stillness, thinking their separate
thoughts. Par was frightened and filled with doubts, but he was
mostly determined. Damson and he were the only real chance
Coil and the others had. They would succeed in this risky busi-
ness because they must.
The Gate watch came awake as those patrolling the west wall
of the park appeared out of the night. The guards greeted each
other casually, spoke for a time, and then the watch from the
east wall appeared as well. A flask was passed around, pipes
were smoked, and then the guards dispersed. The patrols dis-
appeared east and west. The Gate watch resumed their station.
“Not yet,” Damson whispered as Par shifted expectantly.
The minutes dragged by. The solitude that had shrouded the
Gatehouse earlier returned anew. The guards yawned and
shifted. One leaned wearily on the haft of his poleaxe.
“Now,” Damson Rhee said. She caught the Valeman by the
shoulder and leaned into him. Her lips brushed his cheek.’ ‘Luck
to us. Par Ohmsford.”
Then they were up and moving. They crossed into the circle
of light boldly, striding out of the shadows as if they were at
home in them, coming toward the Gatehouse from the direction
of the city. Par was already singing, weaving the wishsong’s
spell through the night’s stillness, filling the minds of the watch
with the images he wished them to see.
What they saw were two Seekers cloaked in forbidding black,
the taller of the two First Seeker Rimmer Dall.
They snapped to attention immediately, eyes forward, barely
looking at the two who approached. Par kept his voice even, the
magic weaving a constant spell of disguise in the minds of the
willing men.
“Open!” Damson Rhee snapped perfunctorily as they