The night deepened, silence following the Protectors through the forest.  Their lanterns did little to penetrate the dark.  Hoary old trees crowded the lane and stretched gnarled boughs into a living arch overhead.  The wood was still sparse, just coming out with new growth, so the alien moons were visible through an intricate webbing of leaf and branch.  It was beautiful, Danner supposed, if one liked that sort of thing.  Him, he was a city boy, an urban hunter.  The wide
open spaces made him nervous.

He rode with head bent and shoulders slumped - and every sense alive.  Blackstone hearing easily detected small rustlings in the brush beyond the lanterns' reach, the high, wild cry of some night hunter too distant to care about the presence of trespassers.  Wind sighed past them through the darkness, smelling of rain.

There would be Horde Riders sent after him almost certainly  -- the dubious advantage of being indispensable to Palas McAllister.  That meant the farther he got from the river, the harder their job would be.

Covertly, the blackstone evaluated his two closest adversaries.  Both Dev were taller and broader than their fellows, although slightly shorter than himself.  They were armed, disciplined and not likely to panic.  Worse, this was their territory.  The odds were dismal.

Another  bird called.  Something rattled the branches overhead.  Danner resisted the impulse to look up.  His escorts rode on stolidly, unconcerned.  He counted ten of them.

From nowhere, a rush of alarm ran along his nerves. Danner's fingers tightened involuntarily around the reins.   His chest constricted, hair rose on the back of his neck.  Seconds later, he heard a sighing whistle and the Dev nearest him toppled from his mount, screaming.  At the same time, the Dev in front of him fell backwards, black-feathered arrows buried deep in his throat.  For a second, Danner was transfixed by the man's eyes, open and staring.  Then the body
vanished beneath the hooves of the suddenly panicked ashas.

In disarray, the Protectors fired their blasters indiscriminately into the surrounding trees.  Taking instant advantage of their distraction, Danner dropped to the ground between two frightened ashas.  The night lit up with blaster fire, bright beams cutting back and forth over Danner's head.

Another volley of arrows and more Protectors died.  Danner dodged a shaft that fell inches from his knee.  He was a sitting duck here.  Seizing the nearest set of dangling reins,  he jerked the asha's head around and pulled it toward the edge of the road.   He dove into the encroaching brush and discovered instantly that it hid a ditch.  He landed head-first in three inches of cold, brackish water.   Heart thumping, he lay perfectly still, expecting the heavy hand on his back, an explosion of deadly light in his eyes.

Nothing.

The shouting and blaster noise died away.  New voices rang out, the words unintelligible above the bleating of the asha and the pulse in Danner's ears.  He rolled slowly over and went flat against the curve of the bank.  Footsteps approached the edge of the road.  A pike swept aside the greenery.  He pressed his face into the soft, wet dirt and held his breath.   Light moved across the ditch; he saw it from the corner of his eye.  To his vast relief, it continued on across the
shrubbery, then vanished.  He waited, locating the strangers by their noise - nine, ten -- maybe a dozen of them.  Then he rolled over and crept up the other side of the ditch.

Moonlight streamed through the tiny new leaves overhead, speckling the ground.  His night vision cleared and strengthened.  A man  - - uniformed, but not Protector -- crouched behind a stump ten feet away, watching the torchlit road.  Two more were moving into the woods, away from the others, pikes sweeping the bushes in their path.  As they crossed a pool of moonlight, the blackstone saw what else they carried.

Nets.  They wanted him alive.

He needed weapons.  Across the forest floor, Danner studied the Dev by the stump, gauged his level of alertness, assessed his balance and coordination.  Adrenalin washed through his veins as he rose and, noiseless, started toward the target.

Inexplicably, deja vu paralyzed him.   His gut clenched.  The cool, spring wood was gone, replaced by steaming jungle.  Vines thick as his waist snaked from the distant branches of an ancient bo tree.   Something crimson and green flashed garishly past.  Hazy sunlight penetrated the jungle's dense canopy, shimmered in the heavy air.   Sweat ran down his back and into his eyes, the M-16 heavy in his hand. . .

Danner caught his breath, blinking rapidly.   Memory trigger.  Just what he didn't need. The blackstone pushed the disconcerting images away and resumed his stealthy advance.  The men with the nets headed in another direction, but others were starting to move into the woods.   He didn't have much time.

The Dev never knew what was coming.   Danner moved into position -- a quick twist, a snap, and it was over.  Easing the body quietly to the ground, he helped himself to the blaster and a dagger.   Then he moved away, heading deeper into the forest, as far as he could get from the road and widening search.

Again his danger sense assaulted him.  Danner spun, fingers searching for the blaster controls as something came at him out of the darkness.  Blind luck and reflex sent the blow glancing off his shoulder.   He followed through with a leaping kick, but his assailant was no longer there.  From the corner of his eye, Danner saw other shapes moving toward him through the trees.  He remembered the nets -- and the metal bands Cthilian had worn.

Turning slowly, heart in his mouth, he counted nine of them, all dressed in the same loose, black clothing.  Like the Protectors, they wore their fair hair in a single plait.  Drawing into a close circle around him, they stopped.  Danner raised the blaster.  The strangers did not move.

"We are here to help you, iri'dan," came a slow drawl from his right.  "There's no need to kill any more of us."

"Easy for you to say," replied the blackstone, not relaxing his guard for an instant.  "You can take me, but it'll be expensive."

The ranks parted and a tall Dev stepped into the moonlit circle.  Silvered hair brushed broad shoulders.  The lean, ascetic face was dominated by deepset eyes; shadows carved hollows beneath high, arched cheekbones.  A band of engraved silver circled his brow, an elegant setting for his glittering, black biocrystal.  The knee-length cloak he wore was silk, or something very like it.

"If you wish to avoid the dungeons of Sidhain tarn, put down the las-rod and come with us."   The Dev took a step forward, then froze, hissing in frustration as Danner lifted the weapon and aimed.

"There will be reinforcements when this patrol fails to arrive at its destination!"

Danner's eyes slid from the richly dressed blackstone to the slight figure at his back.  Another damn witch!   He tightened his grip on the blaster.

"Make no mistake, iri'dan.  She *will* disarm you if I so command."  The voice was quiet, unruffled, but he heard the steel in it.  "Don't be a fool!"

"Who are you?  Why the hell should I believe you?"

"I am Chel Mzara, lord of Mzara'tan.  And, at the moment, trespassing on Raynig lands.  Civil wars have started for less.  If you are who I think you are, iri'dan, there is much you need to learn, but this is not the place nor the place to learn it."

Attention caught, Danner considered a moment, then lowered the blaster.  There was a slight movement in the circle.  Lord Mzara shook his head and his men were still again.

"You don't work for this queen, this Sher'dana?"

"No."

Cthilian had been deathly afraid of the Sher'dana.  It was not much on which to trust his life, but there were few reasonable alternatives at the moment.

"If I go with you, it will inconvenience this Sher'dana?"

The corner of the Dev's long mouth twitched. "Almost certainly," he admitted.

"I need to get back to the river."

"Mzara'tan has a spectacular view of the Ivhadran,"  Lord Mzara offered smoothly.

Making up his mind, Danner pocketed the las-rod.  The Dev lord nodded to one of his men, then beckoned to the blackstone to walk with him.  The wide-eyed young dana at his side stared openly at the human.  She was very young, and there was a strong resemblance between the two.  Great granddaughter, perhaps.  Lord Mzara's biocrystal had twice as many facets as Danner's.

"I suggest we make haste," the lord suggested tersely.  "I would prefer not to meet Raynig foresters."

A dozen men waited on the corpse-strewn road.  At a gesture from Lord Mzara, a youth hurried forward, leading an asha.  Danner mounted without embarrassing himself too badly.

"Leave nothing behind to show we were here," Lord Mzara ordered, throwing the little dana onto her mount.  "Move!"

There were more of Mzara's men than he had realized.  Another half dozen melted out of the woods, leading their ashas onto the road.  And all this for little old him.    Welcome to Devia, Renwolf.

The lord wanted haste, so they rode hard along the narrow lane.  Thick-standing hardwood and pine pressed in on them for several miles before the road ended abruptly at the edge of a broad, moon-silvered field.

"Mzara'tan," the lord called to Danner, pointing toward a low rim of hills on the far side of the open land.  "Ride fast and keep low, iri'dan.  Do not look back."

It was a nerve-racking sprint.  They burst from the wood, pounded across the muddy field, stones and clods of wet earth flying beneath iron-shod hooves.  The field was, in fact, a broad strip of open land, perhaps a mile wide, that ran to the north and south as far as the eye could see.   Feeling hideously exposed, he did as Mzara recommended, hunching over the asha's stocky neck, doggedly staying with the men around him.

They reached the field's edge and found the road again, climbing back into sheltering woodland.  Once again the moonlight vanished, appearing only as irregular gleams on the forest road.  The riders slowed.  Lanterns were lit.  Stifling a yawn, Danner rubbed gritty eyes and wondered how much farther Mzara'tan was and whether he was being a fool.

Lights appeared on the road ahead.  The riders quickened their pace.  Four riders stood watch around a carriage, ashas snorting and pawing the ground.  The tall Dev lord slid from his mount and turned, holding a hand to the little danae.  Someone reached over and took the reins from Danner's numb fingers.

"We ride in comfort to the tarn," the Dev lord said as Danner half fell from the asha.  "Come."

The carriage was large and well-sprung, although in truth, Danner would not have noticed had it been a tumbril.  He collapsed against the squabs in the corner and tried to keep his eyes open.   On the other side of the cab, the Mzaran lord talked to the girl in whispers.  Danner made an attempt to listen, but heavy eyelids drooped as the carriage started forward.

The swaying lulled him into a doze and, for a time, he was unaware of anything.  An especially sharp turn startled him back to wakefulness.  The carriage was filled with a cold, wet breeze.  Thunder rumbled.

"Almost there, iri'dan."  The girl spoke for the first time.  "And just in time. A storm comes."

The carriage rolled swiftly alongside a low, stone wall.  On the other side of it, the land sank into an stretch of marshland feeding into the Ivihadran.   Further yet, past the distant, shining line of the river rose Cthilian's Wall of Heaven.

Clouds spilled over that distant precipice, lightning in their depths.  Wind buffeted the carriage as the road turned away briefly from the marsh.  In the distance, atop a rocky promontory, sprawled a great, walled fortress.  It did not fit Danner's image of a castle, the towers were broad and squat, the walls unmarked by crenelation or decorative work of any kind.

 The road turned again and now there was marsh on both sides.  As far as the eye could see were clumps of vegetation and dying trees scattered across algae scummed water.  The monotonous thud of the asha hooves on packed earth changed, and they were rattling along a narrow stone causeway.

"Mzara Tarn is an island," its lord explained.  "During the flood season, this bridge is the only way on or off.  I would not advise approaching the tarn any other way, even when the floods have receded.  Only a few know the safe paths through the bog."

The carriage left the bridge and they were on the island.  The wind was fearful, roaring across the open marsh, rocking the vehicle dangerously.  Lightning bleached the landscape; thunder crashed.  The driver gave the ashas their head.  Then they were in the lee of the tarn's  massive walls, racing toward the rising portcullis.

The downpour began as the carriage rattled through the courtyard and around the dark bulk of a great keep.  The dana leaned forward and thrust something into his hands.  "Put this on.  You must not be seen," she said.

It was a cloak.  Bemused, Danner shook it out and pulled it around his shoulders.  Another lightning bolt threw the carriage into glaring relief.  The white light glittered on the  girl's biocrystal.  Suddenly, she did not look so young.

"The hood," she reminded him.

He pulled it forward.

"Wait here," commanded Mzara.

The carriage was slowing.  Without waiting for it to stop, the nobleman pushed open the door and leapt out onto the rain-lashed flagstones.  He vanished in the swirling dark.  A moment later, he was back, already soaked, pale hair plastered to his skull.

"All clear!" he shouted.  "Come!"

"Go!"  The dana made shooing motions at him.

Swearing under his breath,  Danner jumped out, miscalculated in the gloom and sprawled face first on the pavement.  Mzara hauled him up, bundling him roughly toward a narrow door in an otherwise faceless expanse of stone.  Danner heard the driver shout at the asha and the carriage drove off.  Then they were inside and the roar and crashing of the storm ended abruptly.   A single candle illuminated a narrow stairwell that wound up into darkness. .

"There's a room up there," Mzara said, still breathless.  "It's not luxurious, but it's clean and warm.  Are you hungry?"

Danner shook his head.  Everywhere he looked, he saw the trappings of a mediaeval lifestyle.  And yet, there were the danships, the blasters.  None of it made sense -- especially to one poor, ignorant blackstone near to falling asleep on his feet.  The Mzaran lord, after looking sharply into his face, nodded.

"Up with you then, iri'dan, before you need carrying."

The stone was damp under his bracing hand, mildewed and chilled with age.  The stair, made for smaller feet than his, turned and turned again, its grade steep, the ceiling so low that several times he hit his head.  Just as he despaired of reaching the top, he came to a door.

"Go ahead," Lord Mzara encouraged.

It was a small room.  A arrow slit served it as a window.  A glowing sphere, like the one in Lord  Ksirin's tent, drifted languidly above a narrow bed.  It gave off steady heat, warming the room in spite of the wind that found its occasional way through the glassless cut.   There were blankets on the bed and a pitcher of water beside it on a small table.  A chair.  A rug.

It looked like a cell and it probably was, but he was too damned tired to care.  Throwing the dripping cloak on the chair, Danner sat down on the bed..

"What do you want from me?" he asked bluntly.

Mzara said nothing for  moment.  Then:  "The word is that you're a Heretic, part of a movement out of the north to overthrow the Fastigium.  But there are other possibilities the Sher'dana refuses to acknowledge."

He paused.  Danner, wiping rain from his face, said: I'm listening."

"A year ago, the rumors began trickling out of Sidhain  -- rumors that the Beacon was suddenly, inexplicably alight; that the Exiles were returning.   Now my nephew and the alorin who abducted him disappear near the ruined hall of an Exiled Clan.  Later, in that same place, an iri'dan is found -- an iri'dan whose mind is closed to danae; an iri'dan who is *not* Dev.  Do you suppose all this is coincidence -- l'Shylian?"

Danner lifted startled eyes to the man's face.

"Oh, yes," Mzara said softly.  "A few of us know the old Names, and l'Shylian is a very old Name, indeed."

"I am not l'Shylian."

"No, you are not." The Dev lord leaned against the door, eyes hooded.  "But I'll wager you're one of their creatures.  The legends say Clan l'Shylian were bios, manipulators of life.  Their excesses brought on their banishment. "

"So," nodded Danner.  "I'm a l'Shylian excess."
 
"That remains to be seen.  Do you know where my nephew is, iri'dan?"

The question was meant to startle him; Danner had been waiting for it.    "Yes," he said.

The Dev lord inhaled sharply.  Thunder shook the massive walls.  A rain-saturated gust found its way through the arrow slit.   It was getting increasingly hard to think straight, and Danner needed to desperately to do so.

"Lord Mzara, Djan is safe.   And if he and Cthilian wish it, they can come home.  It was to Mzara'tan, my lord, that they were fleeing when Raynig drove them north and into our hands.  I can promise you I would not have come here so tamely otherwise."
 
That caught the Dev lord off guard.  Danner met the man's speculative look with as much calm as he could muster.   "I believe you, iri'dan -- to a point." he said, "We will talk about this again in the morning and I will have answers from you then.  One way or the other."

Mzara left, closing the door softly behind him.   Danner heard a key turn in the lock.  He smiled faintly, having expected nothing less.  When Lord Mzara's footsteps faded, he hauled the heavy, wooden bed across the room and wedged it under the door latch.  Grabbing the blankets, Danner carried them to the corner of the tiny room and, wrapped in a cocoon of wool, made himself as comfortable as possible on the floor.

Lord Mzara was not the only one who found trust in short supply.

*****

"What is the Lady doing to Cthilian?"

Djan peered over the top of the table, not at all sure about Doctor Taylor and the wicked needle she was pulling out of Cthilian's arm.  The Doctor sympathized. The whole idea made him queasy.

"She's giving him medicine so he doesn't get sick," replied the Time Lord with a reassuring smile.

"Are you packed?"

"Yes, Doctor."  Djan patted a large, canvas bag on the floor beside him.  There was a suspicious bulge on one side.

"Is that another car, Djan?"  Cthilian, rolling down his sleeve, frowned.  "You know the rule.  Only one toy goes back."

"I can keep it!  Harry the guard gave it to me!  He said I could have it FOREVER!"

Cthilian reached for the satchel.  Djan, howling, threw himself on it.  The Doctor got hastily to his feet as the storm broke in full fury around him.

"Oh, dear!"  cried the Time Lord in mock consternation.  "Look what has happened!"

Djan paused in mid-shriek, gaping as the Doctor extracted a red scarf from his ear.  It was knotted to another, and another.  Tear-filled eyes got very wide as it got longer.  With a flourish, the Doctor whirled the colorful rope around the delighted child.

"There, now I can hear you better," the Time Lord said brightly.  "What were you saying?"  "I want my truck."

"You know the rule!"  Cthilian was ready to tear his hair out.

The child's mischievous grin vanished abruptly as the door opened and Captain McAllister herself came in.  Hastily, surreptitiously, the boy pulled open the satchel and took out the offending toy.  He shoved it quickly into the Doctor's hands and turned a look of dewy-eyed innocence on Palas.  The redhead regarded them both with suspicious gravity.

"Is that your one toy, Doctor?" she asked, adding:  "That's the rule, you know."

Djan was holding his breath.

"It's my only one, I swear!"  the Time Lord promised solemnly

Anna was laughing as she stood up, tucking the syringe into her medical bag.

"You're so mean," she teased Palas. "Only one toy.  Scrooge."

"Et tu, Brutus?"  Golden eyes gleamed.  "Cthilian, any last thoughts?  Are you certain about this?"

"Yes, Lady."  The young Dev stood up, shouldering the satchel.  He was pale, but determined.  "We're ready."

"Good," she said, "because we've started to get the precursor energy readings.  It looks like the time corridor will open, as the Doctor predicted, very near the protoship's core."

Whoever was behind the probe was getting closer to locking onto the danship's energy source.  With luck, and without the crystal, no permanent bridge would be possible between the danship and the home world.  At least the Doctor hoped not.  He caught up the pouch holding the crystal as, outside the suite, the alarms sounded.   Palas motioned to Cthilian who was now the color of milk.

Miles was waiting for them at the transmat, a dozen heavily armed Riders at his side.  The dour lieutenant was even more irritable than usual, scowling indiscriminately at the Doctor and Cthilian as they mounted the platform.  Djan fidgeted anxiously between them.   The moment of disorientation came and went.  With the two frightened Dev close on his heels, the Doctor stepped off the transmat.  He recognized this place at once; the last time he had seen it, he had been a blackstone.

The carved Dev faces smiled down at him, much easier to see now in the bright lights brought in by the danship's new human owners.  Someone had been cleaning.  The mosaic floor, with its alien star map, gleamed under a coat of polish.

Palas, Miles and Anna came through next, followed by a half dozen Riders.  Miles strode past them and pushed open the door.  The scent of stagnant water came faintly through it.   Palas, after the merest hesitation, followed him.

The swamp was still there, fragments of stone wall and path, islands dotting its scum-covered surface.   The central island, the absolute heart of the ship, was not visible from this point, but lay somewhere in the mist at the end of a bridge that linked island to island.

"There," said Palas, pointing.

At the bottom of the hill, where the bridge began, the air shimmered.  Before their eyes, the shimmering widened.  Something dark and star-spangled appeared in its center.  Fresh air stirred the wisps of fog around the shore.

"Wait!"  Miles pushed past the two human danae.  "Anderson!  Philips!"

Two Riders, armed with Devian las-rods scavenged from all over the  danship, ran down the hill and leapt unhesitatingly through the opening.  Palas and Anna moved closer together, stood shoulder to shoulder.  The  Doctor watched their eyes lose focus.  It lasted just a moment.

"Nothing!"  Palas cried to Miles.  "All clear!"

Stubbornly, Miles ignored her and sent troops ahead anyway.  The Doctor watched through the widening aperture as wary Riders fanned out over the windy clifftop.

"Take care," Anna said to Palas.  "I don't want to be stuck with your job, OK?"

The redhead grinned.  "Wimp."  She turned to the Doctor and the Dev.  "Coming, gentlemen?"

 She started down the hill toward the corridor opened by the  probe, Miles right behind her.  For a moment, the two were framed in the circle of the displacement field, bodies limned by sparks of light.  Then they were on the other side, a small figure against a vast sky.

Cthilian seemed rooted to the spot.  The Doctor laid a hand on the youth's shoulder.  Starting, the Dev gave him a wide-eyed look just slightly short of panic.

"You don't have to go," the Time Lord quietly reminded him.

That broke the spell.  Cthilian shook himself and started forward, satchel slung over his shoulder, Djan's fingers clutched tightly in his.

The Doctor felt the expected tingling over his skin as he followed the two young Dev through the opening.  He experienced the unmistakable moment of disorientation, the slight wave of nausea.  Then there was wet ground beneath his feet and a damp wind blowing the hair back from his face.

One of the Riders trotted up to Palas, who was shrugging into her backpack. "All clear, Captain, Lieutenant."

"Good,"  Miles said.  "Palas, damn it. . ."

"No, Miles.  I'll be fine."

Miles glowered at her, frustrated, but knew better than to push her temper.  Turning on his heel, he whistled, summoning the rest of the patrol.  Minutes later they were gone.

The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around.  The view from the cliffs was spectacular.  There had been recent rain, the rocks gleamed wetly beneath four slender moons that drifted westward toward a rim of mountains.  A bank of clouds darkened the northeastern horizan.  It was close to dawn.   Palas walked over to them.

"How do we get down?" she asked Cthilian.

The youth, pushing back long, fair hair, pointed toward a large heap of broken rocks.   "Past there, Lady."

*There* was a crevice fifteen feet from the boulders at the very edge of the precipice.  Cthilian dropped into it without hesitation and held out his arms for Djan.  The Doctor lowered the boy into them.

"Go ahead," he said to Palas, surveying the landscape intently.

She followed the two Dev into the opening.  He  jumped down after her.

They stood in a cave.  Water dripped from the rocks overhead and ran down the sloping floor into darkness.

"Watch your heads," Cthilian advised.  "The ceiling gets very low in places."

There was a click in the darkness and light filled the cramped space.  Remembering the electric torch in his own pack, the Doctor dug it out.  The crevice was natural, no sign of stone-working anywhere.

Cthilian, stooping, started down the tunnel, Djan sticking close to him.  The Doctor took the rear.

No one saw him slip the crystal into a deep niche.  Feeling somewhat better about that, he hurried to catch up.

Without warning, the tunnel turned sharply and dropped away.  Rough steps appeared, cut crudely into the rock.  Rivulets of rainwater gathered into a small, rushing stream and plunged past them into darkness.  No one spoke.  It took all their concentration to safely traverse the slick, precipitous slope.

At long last, the stairs ended and they were in another cave, this one open to the night.  The Doctor figured they were halfway down the cliff.  Looking around, he saw no other way out.

"We climb now," Cthilian said apologetically.

It had been awhile since the Doctor had scaled a cliff.  Peering over the edge of the cave floor, he was instantly dizzy at the drop.

"You climbed this?"  Palas asked in disbelief.  "How?"

Cthilian shrugged.  "I don't remember," he admitted.   "I was sick."

"I know," muttered Palas, shaking her head.  "You are full of surprises, Cthilian."

In truth, the climb was not as bad as it looked.  There were plenty of hand- and foot-holds, and frequent ledges upon which to rest and gather strength for the next leg of the journey.  Nevertheless, it was slow going, and difficult.

It would be dawn within the hour.  To the east, the clouds had all but vanished and the sky showed a faint, lavender glow.  Just beneath the Doctor, the others gathered on a broad ledge.  He dropped beside them.  Djan's teeth were chattering as a fresh breeze whipped the cliff face.  Cthilian opened his pack and took out a woolen cloak that he firmly pulled over the protesting child's head.

"No, little lord," he said sternly.  "I will not deliver you to your Uncle sneezing and coughing!"

As the dark receded, more details were revealed in the landscape that stretched away beneath them.  Far to the west, the Doctor could make out twin towers rising above dense forest.  To the east, the woods were broken by a long strip of open land.  Further still, and he could see the river bend, disappearing into a low mist that suggested marshland.

"Raynig Tarn," replied Cthilian darkly when the Doctor pointed out the towers.  "Mzara'tan lies the other way."

Half an hour later, breathless and sweating, they reached the bottom.  The sun was just clearing the horizon, outlining the treetops with pale rose.  Birdsong flowed from the dark woods, echoing against the cliffs until the air was alive with twitters and trills.  Tiny waterfalls, the storm's overflow,  poured down the Wall of Heaven into the river.

They stood on a narrow, sandy bank reaching into the current.  The river did not look too deep; the Doctor could see the bottom through the crystal clear water.

"There's no sign that Danner came this way," Palas said.

"From the looks of it, there was a considerable storm," the Doctor replied.  "It could easily have washed away any traces."

But Palas was unconvinced.  Returning her torch to her backpack, she waded into the stream.  Seeing Cthilian trying to balance two satchels and a squirming child, the Doctor went to his rescue.  Seizing the boy, he swung Djan up onto his shoulders.  The child squealed with delight.
 

The current was swifter than it looked and there was a bad moment as the riverbed fell away.  But the water rose only to his chest and, a moment later, he was scrambling up the muddy bank.  Djan went tumbling off as he collapsed beside Palas.

"Nice country," she remarked neutrally.

"Indeed."

The Doctor watched as Djan discovered a frog-like creature and dove promptly into the underbrush after it.  Cthilian made a small noise of alarm and went after him.  The child's high light laugh drifted back to them, followed by Cthilian's deeper chuckle.

"Why haven't you told him?" the Doctor asked, plucking a long blade of grass and popping the end of it into his mouth.  "Cthilian deserves that much."

"About Djan?"  She sighed.  "It was Anna who pointed out that we know nothing about the politics of the Dev's home world.   I can't speak for Gallifrey, but on earth, paternity is often taken very seriously indeed  Here, Cthilian is a slave -- an alorin, or whatever they call it.  His affair with Lady Katha may very well be punishable by death, and that sentence may extend to his illegitimate son.  Until we know more about his world, they're both better off ignorant."

"And why is this your decision to make?"

"Because I'm the dreaded Lady, that's why."  The answer was light; the mood behind it was not.   She turned her back on him, the discussion over.   He let it go for the moment, conceding nothing.

The morning brightened.  The Doctor watched, entranced, as tiny rainbows began to appear above the river, each becoming more distinct as the sunlight strengthened.  A long-tailed bird, blue and white, darted between them, hovered a moment above the stream, than dove into the sparkling stream.  It emerged several feet away, a slim, silver fish thrashing in its beak.   The two young Dev returned, crashing through the underbrush with a fine disregard for discretion.  Djan had managed in that short time to cover himself in mud from head to toe.
Cthilian was in a similarly disreputable condition.

"Look, Doctor!"  Djan proffered a big-eyed amphibian for the Time Lord's edification.  "A bibbit!"
 

The creature puffed out its bulbous throat, uttered a sound much like its name, and took a flying leap from the small, grubby palm.  It landed in the Doctor's lap.  Time Lord and bibbit regarded each other with consternation before the latter bounded away into the weeds.

"Djan!"  Cthilian covered his grin with one hand and tried to look shocked as the child dissolvedinto a cascade of giggles.

Smiling, turning his head lazily, the Doctor saw Palas walking along the river, head down.  At first, he thought she was lost in thought, and hoped she was reconsidering.  A moment later,however, she dropped to her haunches and pushed aside a tuft of wiry grass.  He sat up as she looked back at him.

"Someone passed this way recently, probably last night before the rain," she called.  "We'd better move on."

Cthilian's grin vanished and he set hastily about gathering the scattered packs.  The Doctor got to his feet, shouldering his own satchel as Palas prowled deeper into the wood.  Her voice drifted through the tangle of shrubs and saplings:

"More tracks here -- a road!"

"Where are we?"  The Doctor asked Cthilian.

The Dev shook his head.   "I'm sorry, sir.  I was...never allowed out of the tarn.  You can see this part of the river from the towers there, though.  The road probably leads to the Divide between Raynig'tan and Mzara'tan."

They entered the cool, dim wood, catching up with Palas as she stood, looking warily about.  Water dripped from the leaves above, spangling her bright hair.  One landed squarely on her nose.  She wrinkled it, shook her head, and laughed.  The Time Lord, taken by surprise, found it momentarily difficult to breathe.

The road was unpaved, little more than two deep ruts winding through the trees, muddy ground churned by the prints of  several hooved animals.  The Doctor felt a feathery touch against his mind; Palas was scanning.  Uneasy, he said:  "That could be detected, you know."

She started, frowned, then nodded.  "You're right.  Thanks."

The wood grew thicker.  Slender ropes of gray moss festooned the tangled branches overhead.  Brambles lay across the track to snag their feet.   Thin fog hovered above low spots beneath the trees.

Ahead the road forked. Palas stopped and turned to Cthilian who stared uncertainly up one road, then the other.

"Bear east?"  The Doctor suggested, seeing the youth's confusion.  "Mzara'tan lies in that direction, doesn't it?

Cthilian nodded slowly, no confidence whatsoever in his thin face.

"I'm hungry!" Djan announced imperiously.  "Cthilian!"

But Cthilian spun around, eyes wide on the western road.  "Someone's coming!"

Palas wasted no time with questions.  She grabbed Djan and they vanished into the the woods.    The Doctor and Cthilian ran in the other direction, pushing heedlessly through the underbrush.   Now the Time Lord heard what Cthilian had - the swift thud of hooves on soft earth.   Palas and Djan were somewhere on the other side of the lane.  The Doctor cautiously moved a branch aside as a rider came into view.  His mount resembled a Lasdrian vorn, or perhaps a Terran deer.  The rider, in close-fitting garments of dark blue - almost black - rode without urgency.  More came after him.

"Protectors," whispered Cthilian, then made a sudden, frightened sound. "Ksirin!"

On a mount larger than the others, and jet black, rode a small, handsome man in Protector uniform.  The abundance of decoration suggested an officer of some rank.  At his side rode a woman in similar dress, pale hair caught in a careless knot at the nape of her neck.   Just as the Doctor thought they would pass, unheeding, she suddenly reined her animal in, pulled it around.  The Doctor's stomach dropped as, through the shifting green, her eyes met his.  She cried out,
pointing.

"Stay here," the Doctor ordered and stepped out into the open.  But:

"And the other!"

Cthilian came out, deathly pale, eyes blank.  The Doctor laid a hand on his shoulder.  Steel was more pliant.  Someone had called back the front riders.  Suddenly the lane was crowded with Protectors.  The Doctor saw a dozen las-rods trained on them and was glad that he had insisted Palas link their minds with Cthilian's to learn the language.

"Good morning!"  he called cheerfully.  "I'm the Doctor, and I'm afraid you've got us!"

He walked slowly toward the road, hands out and open.  The man on the black deer laughed aloud, but the woman beside him was not amused.

"Bring them here" she ordered sharply.  "And look around!  The boy must be nearby.  This is the scum that abducted him."

The Doctor made no attempt to resist the Protectors as they seized him and pulled him to the road.  They were less gentle with Cthilian, throwing him to the ground at the feet of the officer's skittish mount, kicking him  when he tried to get up.

The Doctor's hearts were pounding as soldiers poured into the forest, las-rods drawn, pikes beating the brush.  The dana turned slowly back and forth in her saddle, staring into the trees.  He could feel her seeking other thoughts, other presences.

And may Providence keep Palas and Djan hidden.  Captain McAllister worried the Time Lord far more than either of his captors.  Palas was more than likely to deal with the crisis by slaughtering every Dev on the road.

"Where is he?"  The woman demanded.  "And where is your conspirator - the dark iri'dan?"

Danner!  They had seen -- and apparently lost -- Danner.  The Doctor was hard put not to grin.  Trust the blackstone to be a gadfly.  Tilting his head, he looked up at the dana with frank curiosity.  Disdainfully she returned his examination, one hand resting on the las-rod at her side.
Her eyes were the color of Palas' -- molten gold.  White hair was bound back from her face with a band of that precious metal.  Nestled in its center, surrounded by the jet and crimson flash of small gems, was a brilliant biocrystal.   So, among the Dev, the white crystal was visible all the time.   Yet another interesting difference between the two species.

The man beside her said something in a low voice and laughed again.  This time, her look of scorn was for him. Unperturbed, the officer slid from his mount and walked slowly around the Doctor, looking him over minutely.  The Time Lord caught a strong whiff of perfume and noted the frivolity of lace at his throat and cuffs, the green jewel in his ear.     Finally, having made a complete circuit, the man turned his attention to Cthilian.  The slave had managed to get to his knees; he shrank as the Protector crouched beside him.

"I'm delighted you've returned, alorin.  I missed you so."   A white hand reached down, pushed back a strand of pale, dirty hair, looped it around the young Dev's ear.  Cthilian stared woodenly at nothing.  "But you've been so very foolish.  I'm afraid not even my affection will be enough to save you much unpleasantness.  On the other hand, were you to repent, return the Sil iri'dan -- perhaps your master will show mercy."

The only response was a tightening of the jaw.  Ksirin sighed and stood up.

"Perhaps you could convince him, Doctor -- whoever you are?" Revulsion swept through the Time Lord.  He met the Dev's gaze squarely, disturbed by what he saw behind the smiling eyes.   Here was a predator of uncommon cruelty and cunning.

"Ksirin, no games!" the woman called.  "We know who they are, Heretic bastards!"

A flicker of something disturbed the officer's silky smile.  Not fond of the dana, then.  The Doctor tucked that tidbit away.

"The boy isn't here," she said.  "But I'll wager he's not far.  Take them to the tarn.  You may indulge yourself when we return."

Lord Ksirin smiled and the Doctor's flesh crept.   "Thank you, my Lady.  I look forward to it."

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