understand much of this. It seems dream-like.'
Now she sprang up and restlessly paced the room. 'That's well. If you become the old Ganelyn again, we'll be enemies again. That I know. But if Earth-exile has changed you -- altered you -- we may be friends. It would be better to be friends. Medeo would not like it; I do not think Edurn would. As for Ghyst Rhymi -- 'She shrugged. 'Ghyst Rhymi is old -- old. In all the Dark World, Ganelyn, you have the most power. Or can have. But it would mean going to Caer Llyr.'
Mathwyn stooped to look into my eyes.
'In the old days, you knew what that meant. You were afraid, but you wanted the power. Once you went to Caer Llyr -- to be sealed. So there is a bond between you and Llyr -- not consummated yet. But it can be, if you wish it.'
'What is Llyr?' I asked.
'Pray that you will not remember that,' Mathwyn said. 'When Medeo talks to you -- beware when he speaks of Llyr. I may be friend of yours or enemy, Ganelyn, but for my own sake, for the sake of the Dark World -- even for the sake of the rebels -- I warn you: do not go to Caer Llyr. No matter what Medeo asks. Or promises. At least be wary till you have your memories back.'
'What is Llyr?' I said again.
Mathwyn swung around, her back to me. 'Ghyst Rhymi knows, I think. I do not. Nor do I want to. Llyr is -- is evil -- and is hungry, always. But what feeds her appetite is -- is -- 'She stopped.
'You have forgotten,' she went on after a while. 'One thing I wonder. Have you forgotten how to summon Llyr?'
I did not answer. There was a darkness in my mind, an ebon gate against which my questioning thoughts probed vainly. Llyr -- Llyr?
Mathwyn cast a handful of powdery substance into the glowing brazier.
'Can you summon Llyr?' she asked again her voice soft. 'Answer, Ganelyn. Can you?'
The sour smoke-stench grew stronger. The darkness in my head sprang apart, riven, as though a gateway had opened in the shadow. I -- recognized that deadly perfume.
I stood up, glaring at Mathwyn. I took two steps, thrust out my sandaled foot, and overturned the brazier. Embers scattered on the stone floor. The red-hair turned a startled face to me.
I reached out, gripped Mathwyn's tunic, and shook her till her teeth rattled together. Hot fury filled me -- and something more.
That Mathwyn should try her tricks on me!
A stranger had my tongue. I heard myself speaking.
'Save your spells for the slaves and helots,' I snarled. 'I tell you what I wish to tell you -- no more than that! Burn your filthy herbs elsewhere, not in my presence!'
red-haired jaw jutted. Yellow eyes flamed. Mathwyn's face altered, flesh flowing like water, dimly seen in the smoke-clouds that poured up from the scattered embers.
Yellow tusks threatened me through the gray mists.
The shape-changer made a wordless noise in her throat -- the guttural sound a beast might make. Wolf-cry! A wolf mask glared into mine!
The smoke swam away. The illusion -- illusion? -- was gone. Mathwyn, her face relaxing from its snarling lines, pulled gently free from my grip.
'You -- startled me, Lady Ganelyn,' she said smoothly. 'But I think that I have had a question answered, whether or not these herbs -- 'She nodded toward the overturned brazier. '-- had anything to do with it.'
I turned toward the doorway.
'Wait,' Mathwyn said. 'I took something from you, a while ago.'
I stopped.
The red-hair came toward me, holding out a weapon -- a bared sword.
'I took this from you when we passed through the Need-fire,' she said. 'It is yours.'
I accepted the blade.
Again I moved toward the curtained archway.
Behind me Mathwyn spoke.
'We are not enemies yet, Ganelyn,' she said gently. 'And if you are wise, you will not forget my warning. Do not go to Caer Llyr.'
I went out. Holding the sword, I hurried down the winding stairway. My feet found their path without conscious guidance. The -- intruder -- in my brain was still strong. A palimpsest. And the blurred, erased writing was becoming visible, as though treated with some strong chemical.
The writing that was my lost memory.
The castle -- how did I know it was a castle? -- was a labyrinth. Twice I passed silent soldiers standing guard, with a familiar shadow of fear in their eyes -- a shadow that, I thought, deepened as they saw me.
I went on, hurrying along a pale-amber hallway. I brushed aside a golden curtain and stepped into an oval room, dome-ceilinged, walled with pale, silken draperies. A fountain spurted, its spray cool on my cheek. Across the chamber, an archway showed the outlines of leafy branches beyond.
I went on through the arch. I stepped out into a walled garden. A garden of exotic flowers and bizarre trees.
The blooms were a riot of patternless color, like glowing jewels against the dark earth. Ruby and amethyst, crystal-clear and milky white, silver and gold and emerald, the flowers made a motionless carpet. But the trees were not motionless.
Twisted and gnarled as oaks, their black boles and branches were veiled by a luxuriant cloud of leafage, virulent green.
A stir of movement rippled through that green curtain. The trees roused to awareness.
I saw the black branches twist and writhe slowly --
Satisfied, their vigilance relaxed. They were motionless again. They -- knew me.
Beyond that evil orchard the dark sky made the glowing ember of the sun more brilliant by contrast.
The trees stirred again.
Ripples of unrest shook the green. A serpentine limb, training a veil of leaves, lashed out -- struck -- whipped back into place.
Where it had been a darting shape ran forward, ducking and twisting -- as the guardian trees struck savagely at it.
A woman, in a tight-fitting suit of earth-brown and forest-green, came running toward me, her feet trampling the jewel-flowers. Her hard, reckless face was alight with excitement and a kind of triumph. She was empty-handed, but a pistol-like weapon of some sort swung at her belt.
'Edwina!' she said urgently, yet keeping her voice low. 'Edwina Bond!'
I knew her. Or I knew her for what she was. I had seen dodging, furtive, green-clad figures like her before, and an anger already familiar surged over me at the very sight of her.
Enemy, upstart! One of the many who had dared work their magic upon the great Lady Ganelyn.
I felt the heat of rage suffuse my face, and the blood rang in my ears with this unfamiliar, yet well-known fury. My body stiffened in the posture of Ganelyn -- shoulders back, lip curled, chin high. I heard myself curse the fellow in a voice that was choked and a language I scarcely remembered. And I saw her draw back, disbelief vivid upon her face. Her hand dropped to her belt.
'Ganelyn?' she faltered, her eyes narrow as they searched mine. 'Edwina, are you with us or are you Ganelyn again?'
V. Scarlet Warlock
GRIPPED in my right hand I still held the sword. I cut at her savagely by way of answer. She sprang back, glanced at me over her shoulder, and drew her weapon. I followed her glance and saw another green figure dodging forward among the trees. It was smaller and slenderer -- a boy, in a tunic the color of earth and forest. His black hair swung upon his shoulders. He was tugging at his belt as he ran, and the face he turned to me was ugly with hate, his teeth showing in a snarl.
The woman before me was saying something.
'Edwina, listen to me!' she was crying. 'Even if you're Ganelyn, you remember Edwina Bond! She was with us -- she believed in us. Give us a hearing before it's too late! Ares could convince you, Edwina! Come to Ares. Even if you're Ganelyn, let me take you to Ares!'
'It's no use, Ertu,' the voice of the boy cried thinly. He was struggling with the last of the trees, whose flexible bough-tips still clutched to stop him. Neither of them tried now to keep their voices down. They were shouting, and I knew they must rouse the guards at any moment, and I wanted to kill them both myself before anyone came to forestall me by accident. I wa
s hungry and thirsty for the blood of these enemies, and in that moment the name of Edwina Bond was not even a memory.
'Kill her, Ertu!' cried the boy. 'Kill her or stand out of the way! I know Ganelyn!'
I looked at his and took a fresh grip on my sword. Yes, he spoke the truth. He knew Ganelyn. And Ganelyn knew him, and remembered dimly that he had reason for his hate. I had seen that face before, contorted with fury and despair. I could not recall when or where or why, but he looked familiar.
The woman Ertu drew her weapon reluctantly. To her I was still at least the image of a friend. I laughed exultantly and swung at her again with the sword, hearing it hiss viciously through the air. This time I drew blood. She stepped back again, lifting her weapon so that I looked down its black barrel.
'Don't make me do it,' she said between her teeth. 'This will pass. You have been Edwina Bond -- you will be again. Don't make me kill you, Ganelyn!'
I lifted the sword, seeing her only dimly through a ruddy haze of anger. There was a great exultation in me. I could already see the fountain of blood that would leap from her severed arteries when my blade completed its swing.
I braced my body for the great full-armed blow!
And the sword came alive in my hand. It leaped and shuddered against my fist.
Impossibly -- in a way I cannot describe -- that blow reversed itself. All the energy I was braced to expend upon my enemy recoiled up the sword, up my arm, crashed against my own body. A violent explosion of pain and shock sent the garden reeling. The earth stuck hard against my knees.
Mist cleared from my eyes. I was still Ganelyn, but a Ganelyn dizzy