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"He did a very good job," said Jack. "Even the voice is perfect."

"I can almost feel sorry for the vagabond Lord of nonexistent Shadow Guard," she said, "Jack of Liars. Being familiar with all forms of baseness, it has become difficult for you to recognize the truth."

"There is a Shadow Guard!" he said.

"Then there is no need for you to grow agitated at its mention, is there?"

"He taught you well, creature. To mock my home is to mock me."

"That was my intention. But I am not a creature of he whom you call the Lord of Bats. I am his woman. I know him by his secret name. He has shown me the world in a sphere. I have seen all places and things from the halls of High Dudgeon. I know that nowhere is there such a place as Shadow Guard."

"No eyes but mine have ever looked upon it," he said, "for it is always hidden by shadows. It is a great, sprawling place, of high, torch-lit halls, underground labyrinths and many towers. On the one hand it faces some light, and on the other the darkness. It is furnished with many mementos of the greatest thefts ever committed. There are things of great beauty there, and things of incalculable worth. The shadows dance in its corridors, and the facets of countless gems gleam brighter than the sun of the one-half world. That is the place you mock: Shadow Guard, next to which your master's keep is but a pigsty. It is sometimes, true, a lonely place; but the real Evene will brighten it with her laughter, touch it with her grace, so that it will endure in splendor long after your master has entered the final darkness as a result of my vengeance."

She applauded softly.

"You make it easy to recall how your words and your passion once persuaded me, Jack. I see now, though, that when you speak of Shadow Guard you speak too well to be describing a real place. I waited for you for a long while, and then I learned of your beheading at Igles. Still, I was determined to await your return. But my father decided otherwise. At first, I believed his lust for the Hellflame ruled him. I was wrong, however. He realized from the first that you were a vagrant, a braggart, a liar. I wept when he bartered me for the Hellflame, but I came to love the one to whom I was given. My Lord is kind where you are thoughtless, intelligent where you are merely shrewd. His fortress really exists and is one of the mightiest in the land. He is all things that you are not. I love him."

Jack studied her now unsmiling face for a moment, then asked, "How did he come to possess the Hellflame?"

"His man won it for him in Igles."

"What was that man's name?"

"Quazer," she said. "Quazer was champion of the Hellgames."

"A moderately useless piece of information for a simulacrum to possess," Jack observed, "if true. Yet, my enemy is of the fussy, thorough sort. I am sorry, but I do not believe you are real."

"It is an example of the egotism that blinds one to the obvious."

"No. I know that you are not the real Evene, but rather a thing sent to torment me, because the real Evene, my Evene, would have refrained from judging me in my absence. She would have waited for my answer to whatever was said against me."

She looked away then.

"More of your clever words," she finally said. "They mean nothing."

"You may go now," he said, "and tell your master you did not succeed."

"He is not my master! He is my Lord and lover!"

"...Or you may stay, if you do not wish to go. It matters not at all."

He rose then, crossed to the bed, stretched out upon it, closed his eyes.

When he looked again, she was gone.

He had seen, however, that which she had not wished him to see.

...But I'll not give them anything, he decided. No matter what evidence they offer, I will explain it as a trick. I will keep my knowledge where I keep my feelings, for now.

After a time, he retreated into sleep, dreaming in bright colors of the future as he would have it.

He was left alone for a long while after that, which suited him perfectly.

He felt that he had held the Lord of Bats at bay, that he had defeated his first design upon his sanity. He occasionally chuckled as he paced the walls, ceilings, floors, surfaces of his chamber. He meditated upon his plan and its dangers, on the years that might be involved in achieving it. He ate his meals. He slept.

It occurred to him then that while at any given moment the Lord of Bats might be observing him, he could possibly be under observation at all times. He immediately had visions of the strange gemstone being passed from hand to hand by shifts of his enemy's servitors. The thought persisted. No matter what the action in which he was engaged, there came the nagging feeling that someone might be watching. He took to sitting for long spells glaring at possible watchers behind the mirrors. He would turn suddenly and gesture obscenely at invisible companions.

Gods! It's working! he decided one time, on awakening and looking quickly about the chamber. He is reaching! I suspect his presence everywhere, and it is beginning to unbalance me. But I've laid the groundwork. If he will just give me the opening I need and all other things remain as they are, I may have a chance. The best way to insure the opening, though, is to remain as untroubled-seeming as possible. I will have to stop pacing and watching, stop mumbling.

He lay there and opened his being and felt the sobering chill of the heights.

After that, he took to silence and slow movement. It was more difficult than he had thought to suppress his smaller reactions. But he suppressed them, sometimes seating himself, clasping his hands and counting through the thousands. The mirrors showed him that he wore a good-sized beard. His jester's garb grew worn and soiled. Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him. Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.

Is there a spell involved? he wondered. Or is it just the effects of prolonged monotony? Probably the latter. I think I'd sense his spell, though he's a better magician than 1. Soon now, soon. Soon he will be coming to me. He will feel that it is taking too long to distress me. There will come a counter-effect. He will be troubled. Soon, now. Soon he will come.

When he did, Jack had had advance notice.

He awakened to find a drawn bath-his second since his arrival, how many ages ago?- and a fresh costume. He scrubbed himself and donned the green-and-white garb. This time, he let the bells remain above his toes and he adjusted the cap to a rakish angle.

He seated himself then, clasped his hands behind his head and smiled faintly. He would not allow his appearance to betray the nervousness he felt.

When the air began to shimmer and he heard the note, he glanced in that direction and nodded slightly.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," said the other. "How are you?"

"Quite recovered. I'd say. I should like to be taking my leave soon."

"In matters of health one cannot be too careful. I would say that you still require rest. But we shall discuss that matter at a later time.

"I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you," he went on. "I have been occupied by matters which required my full attention."

"That is all right," said Jack. "All efforts will shortly come to nothing."

The Lord of Bats studied his face, as though seeking some sign of madness upon it. Then he seated himself and, "What do you mean?" he inquired.

Jack turned his left palm upward, and, "If all things end," he said, "then all efforts will come to nothing."

"Why should all things end?"

"Have you paid heed to the temperature recently, good my Lord?"

"No," said the other, perplexed, "I have not stirred physically from my keep for a long while."