"I'll not tolerate your lies," the spirit of Markwart stated bluntly, his expression menacing. Both Markwart and De'Unnero were amazed by the completeness of the communication. No telepathic messages this time, not even in the initial greeting. Markwart's spirit, seeming tangible, almost physical, had merely walked into De'Unnero's pri-vate room and struck up a conversation with the Bishop!

Despite the imposing presence, the confident Marcalo De'Unnero only smiled and rested back calmly in his comfortable chair.

"Do not doubt that I can reach you," Markwart warned.

"Oh, but I do not, Father Abbot," the Bishop replied. "I only doubt that you would desire to strike out against me, since our goals are the same and I am no threat to you. Perhaps it is merely my methods that anger you."

"It is your lies," Markwart growled.

De'Unnero held up his hands innocently, as if he didn't understand what Markwart was talking about.

"The gemstone confiscation," Markwart clarified, "the pretense of it. I do not disapprove of your handling of the merchants - they are not men of the Church and thus should not be in possession of the sacred stones. We agree on this point."

De'Unnero studied the man closely. He knew they were both pleased by the prospect of strengthening the Church's hold and power over the king-dom, but he thought and was keen enough to understand that the Father Abbot shared this view - that his and Markwart's motives might not be similar.

"Do not pretend that your work in Palmaris is directly related to the friends of Avelyn Debris," Markwart went on. "You are well aware that they are not in your city."

De'Unnero conceded the point with a nod. "My focus will change as I learn more about their whereabouts," he promised.

"Your focus will remain on Palmaris," Markwart instructed. "Your work here is even more important than capture of the fugitives."

De'Unnero's expression went suddenly grim; Markwart's last edict had obviously caught him off guard. "Father Abbot," he said deliberately, "even while I strengthen my - our - hold over Palmaris, I have been col-lecting information concerning the fugitives. They are north of the city but not beyond my reach."

"Yourreach?" Markwart echoed. "Are we back to that, Master De'Unnero?"

De'Unnero lowered his eyes, not wanting the man to see the boiling rage reflected there.Master De'Unnero? The word simmered in the bile at the back of his throat. How crude a reminder of who was the leader here and who the servant. In the Abellican Order, referring to a man by his previous title was considered among the most pointed of insults.

"How many times must we wage this battle?" Markwart asked. "How many times must I tell you that others will manage the business of the legacy of Avelyn Desbris and that the business of Marcalo De'Unnero is of a higher matter?"

"And how many others must fail before you allow me to finish this busi-ness of Avelyn's legacy?" De'Unnero dared to reply. "First Quintal, then the fools Youseff and Dandelion."

"Fools trained by De'Unnero," Markwart reminded.

"And De'Unnero told you that they would fail," the Bishop retorted. "These friends of Avelyn have proven themselves resourceful and dan-gerous foes. They have survived, not merely by running and hiding, but by confronting and defeating everything we have sent their way. And let us not forget our strong belief that these fugitives journeyed to Mount Aida, con-fronted Bestesbulzibar, and won!"

Markwart emitted a low, feral growl.

"We cannot underestimate them," De'Unnero countered. "By all ac-counts, the woman is proficient with the gemstones, hugely powerful, and the man -  "

Markwart's sudden laugh stopped the Bishop short, and De'Unnero real-ized he was being mocked.

"I do so enjoy the hunger in your eyes as you speak of worthy oppo-nents," Markwart explained, finally catching on to the Bishop's real meaning.

"They command our respect," De'Unnero insisted.

"They intrigue you," Markwart corrected. "You have come to view this man Nightbird as a personal challenge. Is it possible that Marcalo De'Un-nero is not the greatest warrior in the world?"

"Are we not to retrieve the stolen gemstones?" De'Unnero said dryly, trying to change the focus, which of course only confirmed Markwart's suspicions.

"Of course, Bishop," the Father Abbot purred. "Yet it seems to me as if the stolen gemstones are not your primary motivation where the one called Nightbird is concerned.

"Be assured that I am not chastising you," Markwart added as De'Un-nero leaned forward to protest. "Indeed, I admire your aspiration. Ever since you first came to St.-Mere-Abelle, you have been determined to prove your supremacy in the fighting skills. You heard the whispers that you are the finest warrior ever to come forth from the Abellican Order, and those whispers bother you profoundly."

"How so?" De'Unnero asked. "If I am as full of vanity as you seem to believe, then should not those whispers thrill me?"

"No," Markwart answered bluntly, "because they are just whispers, and because not everyone agrees. And because, most of all, they speak of you as the greatest of theAbellican warriors. You would not limit your reputa-tion so."

"Pride," De'Unnero replied. "The deadliest sin of all."

Again Markwart laughed. "The man who is without pride is without ambition, and the man who is without ambition is no better than a beast of burden. No, Marcalo De'Unnero, bishop of Palmaris, the world holds greater conquests for you. Perhaps Nightbird is among those challenges. But only - " the Father Abbot paused, holding a skinny finger out threaten-ingly " - only if your contest is waged in the natural course of other, more important events. The world is changing, and we are the harbingers of that change. I'll not risk my legacy and the potential dominance of the Abellican Church for the sake of my underling's pride."

"But how much stronger will we be when Nightbird is no more?" De'Unnero protested loudly. "I know where to find the thieves; destroying them and retrieving that which was stolen will prove but a minor task."

"No!" Markwart retorted sharply, and there was power in his voice that put De'Unnero back in his seat, silent, staring at the specter.

"No," Markwart said again. "There is no need to take such a chance now. Your focus must remain the vital work in Palmaris."

"But - "

"Plot carefully, my friend," Markwart continued. "There are better ways to proceed. Gain the trust of Nightbird and the woman that we might catch them off their guard."

"I doubt the disciples of Avelyn Desbris would ever trust the Abellican Church of Dalebert Markwart," De'Unnero replied bluntly.

"You are fortunate, my servant," Markwart answered, "for I know that you are wiser than your words would indicate. There are better ways for you to encompass the demise of Avelyn's followers. You will discover them, if only you care to look." With those teasing words echoing in the darkened room, the spirit of Markwart faded.

De'Unnero sat in his chair, his hands up before him, fingers tapping together as he considered his options. The meeting hadn't gone as he had hoped, for Markwart was proving himself far more astute than the Bishop would ever have believed. De'Unnero had thought that his assignment to Palmaris, and particularly his elevation to bishop, would bring him some autonomy, but Markwart's newfound tricks with the soul stone had put him more under the thumb of the Father Abbot than he had been at St.-Mere- Abelle.

That truth only made him angrier, and he leaped up from his chair and stormed about the room. He almost took up his tiger's paw and fell into its magic, fantasizing about running hard to the north as a great cat. If he killed the two prime enemies of the Church, could Markwart remain angry with him?

But if he failed, if his attempt only warned Nightbird that the Church was still watching - only forced him into deeper hiding - then, De'Unnero realized, he would be better off if the dangerous warrior slew him in the forest.

Better that than face the wrath of Markwart.

And who was this man? the Bishop wondered, and he wasn't thinking about Nightbird. De'Unnero had known Dalebert Markwart for more than a decade and had been one of his advisers for several years, ever since he had trained the first brother justice, Quintal, to go after Avelyn Desbris. Yet now, speaking with this spirit, feeling the deeper power within the will of the Father Abbot, De'Unnero felt as if he didn't know the man at all... or at least, as if he had underestimated him all these years.

That alone made him consider carefully the advice Markwart had given to him, and led him, after a sleepless night of pacing his room, to an alterna-tive plan.

Markwart soared back to his waiting corporeal form, lying on his bed in St.-Mere-Abelle. He was pleased as he crossed through his outer room, noting that no one had disturbed the place.

His body shuddered as his spirit entered, and then the Father Abbot, though it was very late, climbed out of bed. Yes, it was good that St.- Mere-Abelle was now free of Brother Braumin and his followers, he mused, for so many pressing issues beckoned, from both Ursal and Palmaris.

Without even noticing, the Father Abbot went to his desk and took out a small ruby and hematite, then wandered into the summoning chamber with its pentagram. He walked around the pentagram, bending at each point and, with a thought sent into the ruby, produced a small flame to light each candle. Then he moved to the very middle of the pentagram and sat on the floor cross-legged, his usual place and position for deep meditation.

The voice in his head had taught him this. At first Markwart had resisted. Nothing he had ever read, even inThe Incantations Sorcerous, had mentioned sittingwithin the pentagram. Such a design was normally scribed for the purpose of summoning and confining extraplanar creatures -  indeed, Markwart had used it for just that purpose, bringing up a pair of minor demons to inhabit the corpses of the Chilichunks.

But now, with his new insight, Markwart had found a second, and per-haps even more important use for the pentagram. He used the soul stone to fall within himself, into the deepest recesses of his own mind, the highest level of contemplation.

For with this combination of stones and position Father Abbot Mark-wart could find answers to the greatest mysteries of the universe, to per-sonal dilemmas and grand events that would shake the foundation of both Church and kingdom. Deep within the gemstones, he found such a level of solitude that all the distractions of the material world were left far behind, and within that solitude Markwart found God.

The voice tonight was stronger than before, even as his connection to De'Unnero had tonight achieved a new level of completeness. Markwart pondered the questions that disturbed him, and the voice, as always, gave him the answers. He must get Brother Francis to work even harder now. He must solidify his base of power at St.-Mere-Abelle, bring all the monks into a tight line behind him, so that when he stretched out his arms to engulf the rest of the kingdom, he need not worry about treachery from within. The other abbeys, though they might question or even verbally oppose his policies, would not openly go against him without some hint that there might be allies within St.-Mere-Abelle - greatest of all the abbeys, greater than all the other abbeys combined - to lend them support.

And his principal opponent would no doubt be St. Honce, the abbey most tied to the secular powers of the kingdom.

Yes, now that he and De'Unnero had come to a proper understanding, now that Palmaris was coming under Church control, Markwart would have to be ready to meet the predictable outrage from Ursal - if not from the King, then surely from Danube's advisers.

One step at a time, he reminded himself. Trust De'Unnero, for the man spoke truthfully when he had declared that his goals and Markwart's were one and the same. And get Brother Francis working hard to uncover any dissent, any complaining at all, from those here.

Markwart's eyes closed and he swayed softly, deep in meditation. His thoughts kept drifting back to De'Unnero, the eager warrior. He began to understand then that perhaps the man was in the wrong position. A bishop had to be a subtle, cunning politician, not a straightforward warrior. But Markwart was far from discouraged by this realization, and he began to shape a new role for his appointed bishop.

Does not the sun shine brighter after the darkest night?came the voice from within his head.

Might De'Unnero, so imposing, so brutal, prove to be that night?

And does not the warrior hunger for battle all the more when his enemies stand facing him, yet out of reach?the voice asked.

He could hold De'Unnero back, like drawing back on a Y-bow, the deadly weapon employed by the To-gai nomads of western Behren. Dan-gling Nightbird before him would draw those bands all the farther, Mark-wart knew, and when at last he released the Bishop, the man would shoot out swift as an arrow.

And the Bishop's absence would allow Markwart to shine as the morn-ing sun.

All the answers seemed before him, and the now-contented Father Abbot opened his eyes and stretched. He was pleased, and so was the voice within his head, the voice he thought to be the insights of God.

After Avelyn had loosed the godly magic of the amethyst and destroyed Mount Aida, the demon dactyl Bestesbulzibar had lost its foothold on Corona, had lost its physical form. Only the desperation of the terrified Father Abbot Dalebert Markwart, inadvertently reaching out through a chance usage ofThe Incantations Sorcerous, had allowed the demon spirit to retain any hope that its latest opportunity to shape the world had not been completely lost.

Markwart was the Father Abbot of the Abellican Church; he should have been the demon dactyl's most hated foe.

That made these advisory sessions all the more enjoyable.

Captain Shamus Kilronney was summoned to Chasewind Manor early the next morning. He found Bishop De'Unnero in an excited, almost frantic state, despite his admission that he had not slept at all the previous night.

"This is too important a time for such trivial matters as sleep," the Bishop explained, motioning to a chair opposite him at his delicate garden table, where two morning meals had been set.

Shamus bowed and took his seat.

"You have concluded, no doubt, that our discussion about your friends in the North was of great importance to me," De'Unnero began before Shamus even got his fork into the thick omelette.

"It is not my place to make conclusions concerning the affairs of my superiors," the captain replied.

De'Unnero smiled; he liked such blind obedience. "These two, Nightbird and Pony, they were your friends? "

"Allies," Shamus corrected. "I fought beside them, and, as we indicated to you, we were glad for their help."

"And you never saw the centaur?"

Shamus shook his head and held up his hands.

"Indeed, your cousin remembered correctly," De'Unnero explained.

"There was a centaur with the caravan that came through Palmaris -  Bradwarden, by name. He is considered among the most dangerous fugi-tives in the world, a conspirator in a plan to steal the sacred gemstones from St.-Mere-Abelle. We had him, and were preparing to crush the conspiracy, when your friends - yourfriends, Captain Kilronney - stole him from the jail of St.-Mere-Abelle."

Shamus sighed. So it was true: as Colleen had surmised, Nightbird and Pony were outlaws of the Church. "I did not name them friends," he explained to the Bishop. "I did not know them well enough to bestow such a title upon them."

"Apparently, you did not know them at all," De'Unnero said sarcasti-cally. "But you did name them allies, and that will not mark your record well. The Father Abbot, should he learn of your complicity, will most cer-tainly speak with the King about your commission and continuing career."

Shamus had no answer. He got the distinct feeling that De'Unnero wanted him to deny all association with the outlaws, but his honor would not allow such a lie. No, he had fought beside these two, and would suffer whatever consequences awaited him.

"You should consider yourself quite fortunate," the Bishop went on, "for you are an officer of the King's court, a representative of the law in Honce-the-Bear."

Shamus looked at him curiously, not understanding.

"The centaur is dangerous, no doubt," said De'Unnero, "but the other two, Nightbird and Pony, are perhaps the most dangerous criminals in the world. So, yes, you are fortunate, Captain Kilronney, for you have met them and lived. Either of them could have killed you, caught off your guard as you were."

"Why would they?" Shamus dared to ask. He had no useful response to De'Unnero's claims, for he had no knowledge of this supposed conspiracy or of Pony and Nightbird's breaking into St.-Mere-Abelle. Shamus did have more than a little trouble reconciling De'Unnero's claims with the two companions he had known in the northland.

De'Unnero only laughed at the question. "When we find more time," he said, "you and I will speak of the nature of evil."

"I am a soldier in the King's army, and have seen battle for many months," Shamus replied.

De'Unnero snorted derisively. "You fought powries and goblins, per-haps a giant or two," he said, "but what are they when measured against the true evil of Nightbird and Pony? No, my friend, you cannot begin to imagine the good fortune that allows you now to draw breath. But no matter. Now you are forewarned, and so when you return to the North, this very day, you and your men will take all proper precautions."

"Return to the North?" the captain echoed skeptically.

"Take a dozen - no, a score, even two score - of your finest soldiers,"the Bishop instructed. "Ride hard back to Caer Tinella - or beyond, if, as we fear, Nightbird and the woman have already departed for the Timberlands."

"And am I to take them prisoner?" Shamus asked, forcing the words from his mouth.

"On no account!" De'Unnero roared, horrified at the thought of yet another attempt at the ranger bungled by inferiors. "No! You are to aid them in the reclamation of the Timberlands. I want you standing by Nightbird's side when I arrive.Then justice will be done."

A very shaken Shamus Kilronney left Chasewind Manor soon after. He thought to go to Colleen, but realized before he had taken his first step toward her barracks that he would find nothing there but grief. And trouble, for Colleen would only laugh and might speak out publicly against De'Unnero. Shamus was having a difficult time believing that Nightbird and Pony were as evil as the Bishop had claimed, but he must look past his personal feelings, he determinedly reminded himself, and serve his King.

He was not looking forward to the meeting when Bishop De'Unnero joined him in the North.