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he asked a shaven-headed priest who waited outside the room.
    The man bowed, his hooded eyes avoiding the gaze of his King. 'You have added perhaps twenty years to your life-span, sire. But this was not the Golden Child.'
    'Then find him!' roared the King, blood spraying from his lips and staining the man's pale robes.
    The invisible chains holding Derae to the scene fell away and the Healer fled, coming awake in her darkened room.
    'You saw?' asked Aristotle, his voice soft.
    'So, it was your doing,' she answered, sitting up and reaching for a goblet of water from the table beside the bed.
    'I sent you there,' he admitted, 'but what you saw was real. There are many sides to Chaos, Derae, in many worlds. In the Greece you saw there is already a Demon King.'
    'Why did you show it to me? What purpose did it serve?'
    Aristotle rose and walked to the window, staring out over the moonlit sea. 'You recognized the King?'
    'Of course.'
    'He has murdered all his children in a bid to achieve immortality. Now he seeks a child of legend, Iskander.'
    'What has this to do with me? Speak swiftly, magus , for I am tired.'
    'The enchantment in the world you saw is fading, the centaurs and other creatures of beauty dying with it. They believe that a child will come, a Golden Child, and that he will save them all. The King seeks that golden child; he believes that by eating his heart he will gain immortality. Perhaps he is right.' Aristotle shrugged. 'There are many ways of extending a life. However, even that is not the point. His priests can form small gateways between worlds, and now they are searching for that special boy. They think they have found him.'
    'Alexander?' whispered Derae. 'They will take Alexander?'
    'They will try.'
    'And remove him from our world? Surely that is to be desired?'
    Aristotle's eyes narrowed. 'You think it desirable that another child should have his heart cut from his body?'
    'I do not think I like you,' whispered Derae. 'You are not doing this for the Source, or even to fight Chaos.'
    'No,' he admitted. 'It is for me alone. My own life is in peril. Will you help me?'
    'I will think on it,' she replied. 'Now leave me in peace.'

Pella, Macedonia, Summer
    Alexander lifted his hand and stared at the blue and grey bird perched in the lowest branches of the tall cypress tree.
    The tiny creature fluffed out its feathers and cocked its head to one side, regarding the golden-haired child.
    'Come to me,' the boy whispered. The bird hopped along the branch, then took to the air, swooping over the child's head. Alexander waited, statue-still, his concentration intense. With his eyes closed he could follow the bird's flight up over the garden wall, circling back to the palace and down, ever closer to the outstretched arm. Twice the finch sped by him, but the third time its tiny talons sought purchase on his index finger. Alexander opened his eyes and gazed down at the creature. 'We are friends then?' he asked, his voice gentle. Once more the bird cocked its head and Alexander could feel its tension and its fear. Slowly he reached over with his left hand to stroke the finch's back.
    Suddenly he felt the surge of killing power swelling within him, his heartbeat increasing, his arm beginning to tremble. Holding it back, desperately he began to count aloud. But as he reached seven he felt the awful flow of death along his arm.
    'Fly!' he commanded. The finch soared into the air.
    Alexander sank to the grass, the lust for death departing as swiftly as it had come. 'I will not give in,' he whispered. 'I will reach ten - and then twenty. And one day I will stop it for ever.'
    Never, came the dark voice of his heart. You will never defeat me. You are mine. Now and always.
    Alexander shook his head and stood, forcing the voice away, deeper and deeper inside. The sun was beginning to drop towards the distant mountains and the boy moved into the cool shadows of the western wall. From here he could see the sentries at the gate, their