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And the demon was addressing him； demanding something of him； though not in human speech。 Whether its munication was meant for his ears or to enter his mind directly he could not tell。 Nor could he grasp more than fragments of the meaning。 It was basically a challenge： Why was he here？ Why was he here now； when he ought to be somewhere else？ Why was he as he was？
He realized with a shock that he was going to have to answer it； to offer something analogous to a password before it would allow him to pass this point； or even release him。 What image it saw when it looked at him evidently did not matter。 Here； approaching the pavilion； everyone must be stopped。 And he doubted there was anything； or anyone； that this demon feared or loved。
Mark could no more answer the demonic voice intelligently； in its own terms； than he could have held converse with a bee。 He knew fear； exploding into terror。 He ought to have foreseen that here there might be such formidable guardians； here at the heart of Vilkata's power and control； the Dark King himself was most likely in that huge tent ahead。 Here； perhaps； they had even been able to plan defenses against the Sword of Stealth。 Here its powers were not going to be enough。。。
Only moments had passed since the demon had first challenged him； but already Mark could sense the creature's growing suspicion。 Now it sent an even more urgent interrogation crashing against Mark's mind。 Now it was probing him； searching for evidence of the signs and keys of magic that he did not possess。 In a moment it would be certain that he was some imposter； not a wizard after all。
In his desperation Mark grasped at a certain memory； four years old but still vivid。 It was the recollection of his only previous close encounter with a demon； in the depths of the buried treasure…vaults of the Blue Temple。 Now； in desperate imitation of what another had done then； Mark gasped out a mand into the shimmering air：
〃In the Emperor's name； depart and let me pass！〃
There was a momentary howling in the air。 Simultaneously there came a tornado…blast of wind； lasting only for an instant。 Mark caught a last shred of munication from the thing that challenged him … it was outraged； it had definitely identified him as an imposter。 But that did not matter。 The demon could do nothing about it； for in the next instant it was gone； gone instantaneously； as if yanked away on invisible steel cables that extended to infinity。
Now the air above Mark was quiet and clear； but moments passed before his senses； jarred by the encounter； returned to normal。 He realized that he had stumbled and almost fallen； and that his body was bent over； hands halfway outstretched in front of him； as if to avoid searing heat or ward off dreadful danger。 It had been a very near thing indeed。
Hastily he drew himself erect； looking around carefully。 Wherever the demon had gone； there was no sign it was ing back。 A few people were standing； idly or in conversation； near the front of the pavilion； and he supposed that at least some of them must have noticed something of the challenge and his response。 But all of them； as far as Mark could tell； were going on about their business as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had taken place。 Maybe； he thought； that was the necessary attitude here； in what must be a constant center of intrigue。
Mark walked on。 Having now passed the prison cages and the reviewing stand； he was within a few paces of the huge pavilion； by all indications the tent of Vilkata himself。 Having e this far； Mark swore that he was going forward。 Two human sentries flanked the central doorway of the huge tent； but to his relief these only offered him deep bows as he approached。 Without responding he passed between them； and into a shaded entry。
Cool perfumed lair； doubtless provided by some means of magic； wafted about him。 Mark paused； letting his eyes adjust to the relative gloom； and he had a moment in which to wonder： How could any spell as simple as the one he had just used； recited by a mundane non…magician like himself； repel even the weakest demon？ And what a repulsion！ Repulsion was the wrong word。 It had been instant banishment； as if by catapult。
His puzzlement was not new； essentially the same question had been nagging at him off and on for the past four years； ever since a similar experience in the Blue Temple treasure vaults。 Mark had recounted that event to several trusted magicians in the meantime； and none had given him a satisfactory explanation； though they had all found the occurrence extremely interesting。
He was not going to have time to ponder the matter now。
From just inside the inner doorway of the tent he could hear voices； five or six of them perhaps； men's and women's mixed； chanting softly what Mark took to be words of magic。 The voices came wafting out with the cool air and the perfume； some kind of incense burning。 There was another odor mingled with it now； one not intrinsically unpleasant； but when Mark thought that he recognized it； the strength seemed to drain from his arms and legs； making it momentarily impossible to go on。 He thought that he could recognize the smell of burning human flesh。
Ardneh be with me； Mark prayed mechanically； and wished even more ardently that living； solid Draffut could be with him also。 Then he put back a heavy curtain with his hand； and made himself walk forward into the next chamber of the tent。 A moment later he wished that he had not。
The human body fastened to the stone altar…table was not dead； for it still moved within the limits of its bonds； but it had somehow been deprived of the power to cry out。 Yesterday it had probably been young； whether it had then been male or female was no longer easy to determine； in the dim light of the smoking lamp that hung above the altar。 Around the altar half a dozen magicians of both sexes were gathered； various implements of torture in their hands。 There was a lot of blood； most of it neatly confined to the altar itself； where carved troughs and channels drained it away。 Near the altar stood a small brazier； with the insulated handles of more torture…tools protruding from the glow of coals。
Mark had seen bad things before； in dungeons and in war； still he had to wait for a moment after entering。 He closed his eyes； gripping tightly the hilt of Sightblinder； cursing the Sword for what it had let him see when he looked at the victim。 He knew a powerful urge to draw the Sword； and slaughter these villains where they stood。 But a second thought assured him that it would not be easy to acplish that。 The air in here was thick with familiars and other powers； so thick that even a mundane could hardly fail to be aware of them。 Those powers might now be deceived about Mark； but let him draw a sword and they would take note； and he thought they would not permit their human masters to be slaughtered。
And there was something more important； he was beginning to realize； that he must acplish here before he died。
The half dozen who were gathered around the altar…table； garbed and hooded in various binations of gold and black； paid little attention to Mark when he entered。 One of their number did glance in th