The crimson witch

save them this time, nor will they have the intervention of the hag. Now, please tell me what you are doing here and tell me quickly, lest I get angry. You have not seen me angry.”
        She spat again.
        He squinted, brought his Talent to bear on her.
        She screamed and collapsed to the floor, her arms still bound to the stake.
        He released her mind. “What are you doing in Lelar?”
        “I can't tell you,” she hissed, thinking of the new world beyond the portal in the wall that even now shimmered opaquely next to her, thinking of the virgin territory where Lelar would advance once he had conquered both sides of the gorge. He must be denied that new land!
        He brought his powers to bear again.
        She passed out.
        When she came to again moments later, prodded to consciousness by Lelar's Talents, he bent over her and patted her shoulder. “Now, this is not what we want, is it? I don't want to bleed that magnificent spirit. I have use for it. You will make an excellent lover.”
        “No,” she moaned, twisting at the stake.
        Lelar cackled. The manbats cackled, too. “Oh, but you will. And I can make you. So, you see, I don't want to drain you, to wrinkle you and make you old. I want you as perfect as you are now. But I will still know what it is that brought you here. And I know how to make you tell.”
        “I won't!”
        “We'll see. I'll ask you again tonight-after you have spent an hour or so in my private chambers.”
        “I -”
        “Take her away to the castle matron,” Lelar ordered the two manbats. “I'll send orders later what is to be done with her.”
        The manbats advanced, grinning…
        
        He had been walking some time when he came to the portal in the tree. It opened directly before him, and in the gloom he had momentarily mistaken it for the hungry mouth of some slothful, mammoth predator who expected him to walk right between its teeth. But a closer inspection had revealed a doorway into the branch. He poked his head through and saw a dimly lighted hallway stretching to his left and winding out of sight. He stepped through, and the portal slid shut behind him. Mordoth had found him, just as the men in the tavern had predicted.
        Was that good or bad?
        Again, he was plagued with doubts. Who knew in what manner the mind of a madman like Lelar worked? Perhaps he had been meant to come to Mordoth to meet with his end. No. He shook his head as if that would send the doubt away. It did, a little. He decided that physical exertion would get him thinking healthy thoughts again, and he set off down the corridor. Mordoth was his friend. He needed Mordoth. Mordoth was a good Talented, though he might be commanded by Lelar. Hadn't he seen proof that the Talented was helpful to Commoners in a time when other Talenteds thought next to nothing of Commoners? Well, then he would have to trust the hag and go on. There was Cheryn to think of. He would put his fate in Mordoth's hands. Nevertheless, he kept his right hand on the sword, ready to draw it and fight if forced to.
        The corridor wound down for a rime until he was certain that the branch had gone underground and had become a yards-thick root. The walls were dewy, which supported his assumption, and here and there various small, wormlike organisms clustered on the walls. After some minutes, the walls became dry as the path slanted up. Ahead, he could see light where the corridor emptied into a room of some sort. He stepped up his pace and came to the end of the tunnel. The room he had seen lay ahead. Checking his sword one last time, he walked forward into the light.
        It was fascinating. The room stretched across for a hundred feet, the walls all polished wood, the ceiling and floor joined together by great polished wooden stalagmites and stalagtites. The light was magiced light, for there was no evident source. It seemed to issue from the wood itself, though a concentrated gaze on any one spot showed only dark, highly polished wood no different than any other finished grain. Anyway, as impressive as the chamber was, it did not hold the object of his search. Mordoth was nowhere in sight. He crossed the shiny floor to a flight of steps carved in the opposite wall, mounted them. Along the entire length of the staircase, the wall was carved with scenes of paradise and hell. There were naked maidens engaged in love with virile,