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"So you are unaware what passed in the thirty years since you left." Allouette hid her gathering anger.

"Oh, I know the history, never fear!" Durer said. "I know that you became Chief Agent, for example—far too young, and that you used the post only to contract a noble marriage for yourself and turn on your own organization! Tell me, what would happen if your husband learned all that you had done?"

Allouette felt a chill strike to her heart.

"And he will learn, be sure of that," Durer said softly, but with a sneer nonetheless. "He will learn that you slept with whomever you were commanded to corrupt—and whomever would gain you advantage in your frantic desire for power. He will learn of your murders and subversions, of your seductions and betrayals. Do you think he will still love you after that?"

"What would you have me do?" Allouette asked through lips gone wooden.

"A minor invitation," Durer said breezily. "Only family hospitality. Find some excuse to invite all the Gallowglass brats and their spouses—yes, even the Heir Apparent, most especially the Crown Prince! Find some excuse for gathering them in the Great Hall at Castle Gallowglass. That is all you need do—nothing more than you ordinarily might."

"What will happen then?" Every word seemed leaden.

"Oh, you need not concern yourself with that!" Durer told her. "What hostess would ever think of unpleasantness? No, simply gather your guests—I shall see to the rest!"

Allouette's skin crawled at the menace in his tone, but she understood instantly what she must do. "When am I to execute this plan?"

"Oh, there is no rush." Durer waved the question away. "As soon as you can, that is all—and when you have set a date, tell Maud the scullery maid. Even twenty-four hours' notice will be enough." His voice sank into a threatening tone. "But do not wait overlong, or your husband shall learn all."

"As you say." Allouette turned away. "I shall do it. Now leave me."

Durer made a mocking bow and retreated.

Allouette opened the door, went in, then closed it forcefully and leaned back against it, trembling. A torrent of thoughts spilled through her mind, but one emerged clearly—that no matter what she did or did not do now, her marriage was over.

AS THEY RODE out of the forest onto the uplands, Rod was saying, "So I've done one more thing to help out people in a predicament and kept the country on track while I did it. Feels good, Fess."

"You seem to have solved predicaments for several people, Rod, not only Geordie and his wife."

"Yes—I pulled Anselm back from the brink of rebellion and helped save a few thousands peasants and soldiers from civil war by doing it." Rod nodded. "Not a bad day's work, Fess—or a bad life's work, either."

"It is certainly worthwhile devoting your life to people, Rod."

Rod smiled fondly at the back of the horse-head; Fess had deliberately misunderstood again. Then he frowned as the horse came to a stop. "What are you waiting for? We can make three more miles before sunset"

"We could not, Rod—the sun is setting. Besides, there is no more land."

"No more land?" Rod craned his neck, looking forward and down, and saw the turf end abruptly. Below it, he saw a blue and rippling expanse—then realized that those ripples were really waves; they were so far below that they seemed much smaller than they really were. "So." He sat back in his saddle. "We've come to the western coast of Gramarye."

"We have, Rod. We stand atop the sea-cliffs."

Rod looked into the setting sun—and saw a form emerging from its glare. He frowned, shading his eyes, trying to separate sun from object. "What's that coming toward us—a ship?"

"It is far too large to be a ship, Rod."

"No, nor tall enough either, not considering how wide it is."

The object seemed to swell, separating itself from the sun-glare, and Rod stared. "Fess! It's a floating island!"

"Surely only an illusion, Rod."

"If it is, it's a mighty convincing one! It's not just floating, it's sailing—and its coming right at us!"

It did indeed. The island loomed larger and larger, swelling till it filled half the horizon, then three-quarters, then blocked all of the western vista, becoming a whole land of its own, its cliffs crowned by a meadow of thyme and lavender. Behind it rose a forest—but surely no forest like this had ever existed, not in any world Rod had visited. The trunks of its trees were of silver and ivory and gold, and the leaves that adorned them were all the colors of the rainbow; the fruits that hung from them were crystals and gemstones. Birds fluttered among their leaves, birds of extravagant and gaudy plumage, like birds of paradise only far more various.

And a human form moved among those trees, moved and came forward, stepping through lavender as though it scarcely touched the earth, drifting closer and closer until it revealed itself as a woman.

Rod stared, spellbound, and his heart began to ache.

Then she was only thirty feet from him, for the island had drifted closer still until only a yard separated its cliffs from Gramarye's, and the woman paced closer still, smiling and reaching out toward Rod.

"It's Gwen," Rod breathed. "It's Gwen as she was when I met her, Gwen not yet thirty!"

"I see nothing, Rod," the robot's voice said in his ear.

"I do, and that's all that matters! Fess, I've found it! I've found Tir Nan Og, the Land of Youth—and Gwen!"

"Do not lose yourself in illusion, Rod. That has been your abiding struggle."

"Fess, this is no illusion! She's there, she's real!"

Gwen's smile was radiant.

"Let's go!" Then Rod paused, frowning. "No, that's not right. Once I cross that gap, I can't come back. Not that I want to—but I have no right to take you with me."

"Where you go, Rod, I will bear you."

"But you don't belong to me, you belong to the family! Magnus should inherit you after I've left!" The heartache sharpened, and Rod pressed a hand to his chest. 'They'll have need of you, all the kids—and their children, too!"

"They shall endure, Rod." Fess turned his head to look at his master. "If nothing else, Magnus has the computer Herkimer, who guides his ship—and has all my memories."

Rod gave him a quizzical look. "You want to come with me, then?"

"Gwen has been my friend, too, Rod, for thirty years— and the more my friend because she has made your life joyous."

Rod smiled. "Then let's go see her."

He gazed at Gwen and everything else seemed dim and unimportant; she was Tir Nan Og, a wonderland in which he could lose himself. His heart twisted as he gave the robot a nudge with his knees. Fess paced forward to step across the gap into Tir Nan Og, and Rod rode with him. For a moment, there was resistance that gave way, a searing pain in his chest, and a feeling as of a tearing veil; then Tir Nan Og was all about him, its colors even brighter now that he was a part of it, and Gwen was lifting her arms and he was swinging down from Fess's back and running the last few steps to sweep her up and whirl her about. As he did, he saw his hands, and they were unwrinkled and young again, as he knew his face and all his body were. Desire hammered hot and strong within him, and as Tir Nan Og once again moved away from the world of the living, he found her lips. They were soft on his, they tasted like the sweetest wine, and he drank deeply, as he would do forever.

WORD CAME TO the High Warlock at his seat in Runnymede, and Magnus d'Armand came to the western shore to gaze upon the body of his father where it lay broken on the shingle above the tide line. Nearby stood Fess, as faithful as he had ever been, but when Magnus spoke to him, he could not say what had happened, and he seemed changed. The robot was never the same again; there seemed to be something missing in him, as though he were indeed only a machine.