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decoys?"
    "Decoys?" said Wistril. "Decoys? Ask the
Grizzly. His broken down hay-wains proved infinitely more effective
than my own marvels of sorcery." Wistril glared. "This is not to be
borne, Apprentice."
    Kern shook his head. "What do we do about
it?"
    Wistril turned toward the trees, as if his
glare could strike down the Grizzly where he stood. "I do not
know," said Wistril. "I cannot contain the surviving serpentia to
the Lake forever. My Oath forbids me the hearty pleasure of filling
the Grizzly's beard with scorpions. Pitting ourselves and our staff
in a pitched battle with a murderous band of experienced
mercenaries is foolhardy at best. Confound it, Kern, I do not
know."
    "Sir Knobby thinks he can drop a boat-anchor
on the Grizzly's tent," said Kern.
    "They have a catapult." Wistril took in a
great, long breath and let it out in a sigh. "I shall walk and
ponder," he said at last. "Stay. Watch. Signal if that butcher
dares set foot on Kauph."
    "Yes, Master."
    "Oath or no Oath," growled Wistril, "I shall
find a way."
    The orphaned serpentia surfaced again. All
three joined in a long, whistling cry, a cry that echoed across
water and wood but was not, would never be, answered.
    Wistril marched away. Kern and Sir Knobby
looked toward the serpents and shook their heads.
    The sun set, and the first bold stars crept
out, and the young serpentia whistled and chirped and troubled the
waters but did not dare the shore alone.
    Kern and Sir Knobby walked the shore. Neither
gargoyle nor apprentice let his eyes stray from the tall pines for
very long, though both would occasionally steal a glance toward
Wistril's enormous red tent.
    Wistril's tent remained silent, dark, and
still. Dusk gave way to night; Kern ordered torches lit.
    From deep within the pines, a gargoyle
hooted, and another. Sir Knobby's bat-wing ears lifted and
spread.
    "Master," said Kern, trotting to stand before
Wistril's tent. "Our guests are arriving."
    A light flared in Wistril's tent. "How many?"
said the wizard.
    Kern lifted an eyebrow at Sir Knobby. The
gargoyle lifted his empty left hand and spread his fingers wide
once, twice, three times.
    "Fifteen," said Kern.
    The tent-flap was flung aside, and Wistril
emerged in a stoop. Kern stepped back, agape.
    Gone were the wizard's leather breeches and
fur-lined greatcoat and hob-nailed boots. Now, Wistril was swathed
in yards and yards of sheer black silk -- robe, cape, sleeves, all
black, all silk. A finely wrought silver sword-belt held a sword at
his side.
    The silver clasp that held Wistril's long
cloak together at his neck glittered. The clasp bore a small
working of the House of Kauph's Old Kingdom heraldic emblem -- a
unicorn rampant by a wall of climbing roses. Kern was sure the
emblem had been pried carefully off the hilt of Wistril's favorite
letter-opener.
    "Hoot," said Sir Knobby.
    "Fifteen of the Grizzly's men are headed this
way, Master," said Kern. "Maybe they want to borrow a cup of sugar,
or maybe they want our heads. Either way, I need a pep talk, and
Sir Knobby here wants a promotion."
    Wistril glared. "Only fifteen?"
    Sir Knobby nodded.
    Wistril snorted. "Fifteen. Deal with them,
Apprentice," said the Wizard. "I will not be distracted again by
this Grizzly's chicanery."
    Kern bowed. "As you wish, your Fearsomeness,"
he said. "I shall speak sternly to the ruffians, and if they do not
mend their evil ways I shall stamp my foot repeatedly."
    "Stall them, Apprentice," growled Wistril. "I
require a few moments to perform certain rituals. No one must be
allowed to interfere."
    More hoots sounded from the trees. "Have you
found a way out of this, Master?" said Kern.
    "I have indeed," said Wistril. "You,
Apprentice, have but to put that braying tongue of yours to good
use for a few short moments."
    "I'll do my best," said Kern.
    Wistril turned for the Lake. "Then I am
assured, at least, of inflicting upon the Grizzly a tirade of lack
wit verbosity. Good luck, Apprentice."
    A pair of shadowy phantoms