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as there were only four of them. Eris couldn’t think of a single tale in which an elemental of any level appeared to a solitary human in order to help him. To kill and destroy, yes, but not to offer assistance. Nor was it uncommon to find sorcerous names in the god-lore of other, less civilized peoples. Moreover to assist a man who was not a king, a prince, a suzerain—it was unthinkable.
    “What will it be, Eris?” Raga asked, interrupting his thoughts.
    Eris glanced at him. After a moment he rubbed his hands across his face. It was not an easy thing for him to agree to. Raga-Tor. Sorcerer. The idea was appalling.
    “I need to think it over,” Eris said, but his mood was calmer. “I’ll give you my decision in the morning.”
    “What is there to think over?” Raga asked surprised. “What else can I say to make you see reason? To make you see the hopelessness of your situation if you try this alone?”
    “You can chatter all night, but I’ll not be forced to cast my lot with you until you give me some time, alone , to think this through,” Eris insisted.
    The ruddy-faced sorcerer gave a dramatic sigh, turned back to the table and picked up his goblet. In one long drought, he took it to the dregs and placed it back onto the white, cloth-covered table. In a flash of gold-red light, the table and its feast vanished into the night.
    Eris shuddered inwardly and looked away from his unwanted guest. More and more he was convinced that the man was who he said he was. He knew of no mortal crafter of the arcane arts who could do what he had just witnessed.
    “Fine,” Raga said gruffly. His own good humor vanished with the table. “I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to give me an answer. Make sure you think well on this, because your future is presently tied to the working of the universal order whether you like it or not.”
    Eris didn’t say a word, nor did he raise his head to bid the sorcerer a good night as he quietly left the room. Eris was relieved that he used the door.
    He waited until he heard Raga’s heavy footsteps fade down the corridor before getting up to bolt the door. His stomach rudely reminded him of the pity it was that all the food disappeared. Then again, ‘magical’ food was not at all appealing no matter how good it smelled.
    A knock on the door startled him.
    “Who’s there?”
    “Kaitay,” came the answer. “Eris, I. . . I thought you might like some hot water to clean up with.”
    That was an idea better than food and he quickly opened the door. Kaitay stood outside with a large, steaming bowl of water, a small scrap of soap and several towels folded over her arm.
    “Please, come in,” Eris said, speaking to her more civilly than before.
    Kaitay took a hesitant step into the room and looked around.
    “I came up earlier and I heard arguing so I went away,” she said and seemed uncomfortable. She glanced cautiously around the room. “Is that other man crazy? Talking about sorcery when Azoreth rides the sky, he could get himself killed.”
    “Don’t worry. He’s gone,” Eris said. He took the bowl from her and put it on the trunk. He wondered just how much of their conversation she might have heard. Not that it would do her any good to spread such tales during the phase of Azoreth.
    “I see you have your fire started,” Kaitay said, pushing a wisp of wiry brown hair away from her face. Quickly, she placed the soap and towels next to the bowl. “I really am sorry I didn’t see to it sooner.”
    “No matter, it’s done.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his very wet boots. “Give these to your brother to clean. I don’t care if he can’t get them dry by morning, but cleaned and oiled at least. Tell him to put them by the door before eight bells.”
    “Of course,” she said. Her light-brown eyes nervously searched his face. “Eris…”
    “What?” He looked up at her, when she didn’t continue.
    “I was….well…I was wondering about something,