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seemed quite unmoved by that statement. "I'll interrupt no further, good mage, if you will set forth the complete picture from the beginning—and I mean what occurred well prior to the demise of the demonurgist Frontonac."
    "You know about the others?" Aldriss exclaimed.
    "He does now," Tallesian quipped laconically.
    The Behon sighed, settled back, and sipped a little of his now tepid drink. "The thing started a year ago," he finally said, looking upward a moment as if to mentally sort out the details before proceeding. "The first victim was the Eldest Spaewife." Setne was about to interrupt, but the gray-haired magus held up his hand. "I know, you need the background of that, too. Someone calling himself the 'Master of Jackals' was responsible. A king of Skandia, Rogven Iron Eyes, of course, received a demand for certain things prior to and after his principal heka-wielder was assassinated. Even I am uncertain as to exactly what the list included, but there was certainly money involved. Rogven, not known for his open-handedness, let alone timorous nature, demanded that the unknown blackmailer meet him in combat. Instead the Eldest Spaewife, the king's chief dweomercraefter, was murdered. They found her one morning soon after Rogven's refusal. The woman had been literally torn to shreds within her sanctum. The whole place was coated in ice . . . bloody ice!"
    "The protections?"
    "Each still in place, all castings laid active, nothing else disturbed," the Behon replied. "If that could occur under the very roof of the ruler of the nation, and to the most powerful spellbinder in the country, what hope did Rogven have if the so-called Master of Jackals decided to slay him? The answer being plain, the king paid over the demanded things."
    "A year past, you say?" Setne murmured. "There has been no rumor of the occurrence . . . not even a whisper in the Greater Nexus."
    "Rogven has done his best to see to that, but it is certainly worth pondering. Something far greater than the King of Svergie, powerful as he may be, has worked to suppress the information."
    "A year . . . Of course, I have been otherwise occupied," the wizard-priest mused, "but still . . . This is most disquieting. Is there more?"
    Tallesian nodded. "Much more. You have heard only the beginning." He glanced at the mage, who nodded his assent. "The Grand Duke of Livestonia, himself something of a demonurgist, was evidently threatened a short time after
    that. He ignored the Master of Jackals and paid the price. There is a new grand duke in Riga. That was announced ten months ago. Next came threats to the Northerners—Talmark, Russ, Ka-levala, Finmark in succession—dreadful old Louhi of Pohjola raved about threats from someone. Only rumors exist, but it seems they paid whatever blackmail or tribute or ransom was demanded. The League of Hansa was not so wise. Their three chief leaders were murdered in succession, which proves the stubbornness of the Teutons and the deadlines of the Master of Jackals. It seems nothing can stop him."
    "Come now, druid!" Inhetep interjected. "Isn't that a trifle overstated on the face of the evidence?"
    "You haven't heard the whole yet," Aldriss » the bard supplied. "Last month, the most powerful sorcerer in Brettony, perhaps in Francia as well, proved unable to protect himself against this assassin—his agent, that is. And now—"
    "And now I shall resume the tale," the Behon said firmly, cutting off his associate. "The time has come to do something about this matter. The person or organization masquerading as the Master of Jackals must be discovered and brought to justice."
    Rachelle couldn't resist crying out, "You three have come all the way from Lyonnesse to ask aid of us—I mean, Magister Inhetep? His fame has spread to the very fringes of Yarth?"
    The Behon looked nonplussed, and it was Setne himself who came to the rescue of the sagacious mage. "We who bend dweomers and magickal powers to our will have a means of knowing