ust at that moment, something in me snapped, and I could move again.  And at the same moment, Arkard stepped forward right under the monster's awful jaw and said, "I think not."

Tishkol goggled at him, mouth hanging open foolishly.

The kid went on, "I think Argabas shall have your soul instead, traitor and murderer."  His hand whipped up and down, and a knife was suddenly sprouting from the sorcerer's throat.

He half raised a hand to paw at it, but before it ever got there, he fell down full length on the floor.

The monster reared back on its hind legs and tittered like a foolish old woman – and mighty strange it was to me to hear that silly laugh from such a beast!  Then it crouched and dipped its ugly head to Arkard, and said, "My thanks, Ark'ard'dro!  What service wilt thou have for this boon?"

"What service did he require of thee?"

"I know not."

"Then ask him!" the kid ordered impatiently.  And the monster disappeared.  Arkard walked over to reclaim his knife, while the rest of us finally started coming to life once more.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, what the hell ...?"

About then, damned if the monster didn't pop out again. "No service, Ark'ard'dro.  He just wanted to dispose of all of you, to avoid having to pay you."

At that, we all loosed growls and curses of one sort or another, but Arkard just asked, "Who rules Darktower?"

"Master Yanulis."

"Good enough. Begone!" And it was gone again.  I took a couple of steps forward and asked again, "What the hell was that?"

"Hell indeed, my friend," he drawled.  "That was the demon Argabas."

"And it would have killed us all?" I exclaimed in outrage.

"Worse than that – it would have taken your souls."

It struck me odd that he said "your," instead of "our."  I frowned, "Our souls?  But not yours?"

His mouth twisted. "No, not mine. It is already bought and paid for."

The others had gathered around by then, and one asked, "What do we do now?"

"Get our money – one way or another," was his grim answer to that.  "Go round up that servant that let us in the house, and anybody else you find, and bring them here."

The other three left to do his bidding, but I stayed.  "You're a sorcerer, too," I accused.  "Just like him."  And I spat on the corpse.

"Sorcerer, yes, but not like him."

"You saved our lives.  Why?  If he couldn't kill you, you could have had the whole reward for yourself."

"I said I was not like him," he replied impatiently.

"But still, I owe you.  We all owe you.  I'll give you half of my share," I offered.

"I don't want your money.  A hundred in gold is plenty for me to pack around – and have thieves try to lift off me."

"What will you take then?" I persisted.

"If you insist – let me have my pick of the books here."

"Help yourself!  The whole lot of them won't do us any good!"

"You are wrong.  Selling them is the only way we will get anything out of this venture.  With luck, we can sell them to our late employer's compatriots in this dump.  But we may have to pack them back up and haul them to Marmor or Starakhan, instead."  As he was speaking, he moved past me and began selecting scrolls.  I noticed that one of them he picked was in a metal case; it was one that Tishkol had been especially delighted to get his hands on.

A few minutes later the rest of the crew came back with the old servant and a small pouch of gold and silver coins. "He swears that's all the money there is in the house," Ellis reported, and the man chimed in to confirm it.

Arkard walked over to face the servant. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Meff, Great Lord," the man moaned, ducking his head. "That's all there is – my master was never rich, I swear it! He took every penny he had with him when he left. That there's just what little I could collect from those that owed him, to try to keep the house ...."

The kid cut him off with, "Peace! No one is going to hurt you."  Then he told them to release him, and when they did, the old fellow collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching at Arkard's feet.  "Get up," he ordered, holding out a hand for the pouch, which Ellis gave to him.  "Now Meff, you can see for yourself that your master is dead, so you either need to find another, or else leave Darktower.  Would you like to earn this money for your very own?  There's not a lot here, to be sure, but it might be enough to keep you from starving."

"What do you want, Great Lord?" the man moaned, wringing his hands.  "I'll do anything you say ...."

"At least until you get outside the door, eh?  Now listen carefully.  I want you to go and carry a message to Master Yanulis."  He fished out one of the coins and pressed it against the grey stone ring he wore on the middle finger of his left hand.  Then he thrust it out to Meff.  "Give him this, and tell him Tishkol is dead, and to come here if he's interested in buying the Shtakmir collection for 600 gold kotani."

The servant accepted the coin with a trembling hand, looked at it, and nearly dropped it. "Ard'ard'dro!" he squeaked.

"Aye," the other sighed.  "Go tell him.  If he doesn't want to come, get one of the other masters instead.  If we get our gold, you get the pouch.  Understand?"

Meff nodded vigorously, then threw himself down and kissed the floor, then jumped up and ran out.  He was a different man than the shaky old codger they had dragged in!

Arkard went back to sorting scrolls, and I followed him. "How come everybody around here seems to know your name?" I demanded curiously.  "Even the demon?"

"It's not my name," he tossed over his shoulder.

Then it finally dawned on me. "Not your name ... your title!"

He didn't respond, so I didn't push it, but I knew I must be right.  And privately I thought it must be a pretty high-and- mighty title at that.

He was making a small pile of the books he had chosen, in the middle of the floor. Ethnol elbowed me and whispered, "What's he doing?"

"Picking out the ones he wants to keep," I explained.  "He wouldn't take any more than that in payment for our lives."

Within another half hour, Arkard had gone through all the books, and picked out maybe a dozen or so.  Then he stepped back away from the pile and pointed at it.  And it burst into flames!

"What're you doing?!" I yelped.  "I thought you wanted those!"

"I did.  So that I could destroy them."  He came over closer and we both watched the pile burn.  "You see, Kelton, my power is of the Light, diametrically opposed to the ways of this place, which is Dark in more than just name.  If I were free to do as I chose, I would destroy Darktower completely, with everyone that belongs to it.  I cannot do that, but at least I can make sure that the worst of our spoil spawns no greater evils."

"What about Shtakmir?" I asked.  "Was it Dark, too?"

"Aye."

"We could do here like we did there," I suggested.

But he shook his head.  "This place is much larger, and better defended.  It would only accomplish all our deaths. And I am forbidden to die."

About then Meff came back, all shaking and groaning again.  He fell down full length on his belly and clasped his hands above his head, crying, "Mercy, Ark'ard'dro! Mercy!"

"What happened?" the young sorcerer demanded wearily.

"They would not admit me!  They said the Master was busy.  I begged them to take the coin to him, but they would not even look at it!  They drove me away!"

"So who is Yanulis's chief rival?"

"He has none!  Not any more!  My master might have aspired to his chair, after he was armed with the lore of Shtakmir, but none other dare so much as raise their eyes to him."

Arkard swore, a brief violent phrase in some language I didn't know.  Then he threw down the pouch in front of the man, and called out, "Argabas!"

And the demon popped back into sight, like it'd been there all the time, waiting.

"Argabas – this service I will accept of thee – go to Master Yanulis and inform him of the situation here.  Tell him that all I want is the 600 kotani promised us by Tishkol, and not only shall the Shtakmir collection be his, but we will leave Darktower in peace.  If he is too busy to come himself, he may send the money by messenger, along with a pass to get us safely out the gate."

The monster dipped its horrible head and disappeared, for the last time.

When I looked, I saw that Meff and the pouch had disappeared as well.  We never saw him again either.

For the best part of an hour, we just wandered around the house, finding us some food and a few other trinkets. Then finally a minor procession showed up at the front door, and I hurried us all back upstairs to receive our visitors.

First in the door were a couple of men in hooded black robes, who took up stations on either side – guards of some sort, I supposed, though they wore no visible weapons.  After them was a wizened little fellow whose eyes made me shrink like I would from a snake.  This was Master Yanulis, I was sure.  And I was right.  Although a whole gaggle of others, young and old, crowded in after him, and spread out around the room, he just stood still, staring at Arkard, who stared back without a word.

At last Yanulis took another couple of steps and dropped to one knee, muttering something I couldn't understand. Arkard responded in the same language, lifting his left hand in a gesture of peace.

The Master stood up and said in a carefully neutral tone, so it was plain to see he didn't mean it for one second: "You honor us with your presence, Ark'ard'dro."

"No doubt," the youth replied dryly.

"We had heard that all the Elders perished in the Sorcerer's War."

Arkard twitched one shoulder in a sort of shrug. "If you have doubts, you may ask Argabas."

"I already did."

"And?"

"It confirmed your Power.  But demons do not always tell the truth ...."

"Would you care to bring challenge, and find out for yourself?" Arkard invited silkily.  When the other did not respond, he continued, "It would be much simpler, and I might add, much less dangerous, to merely give us our wages and be rid of us."

The older man ran a beady eye over the scattered sacks and documents.  "So Tishkol was successful in his quest."

"He was, thanks to our help.  And if you will pay what he promised us, we will be on our way and trouble you no more."

"You are sure you would not care to ... stay a while with us, Great Lord?  We have many delights here ...."

"I would not!" Arkard cut him off, in a voice like a sword stroke.

The other dipped his chin. "As you will."  He crooked a finger up by his shoulder, and a boy ran forward with a small chest, which he set down at Arkard's feet and then quickly scuttled back into the crowd.

I dropped to one knee and opened it.  Gold coins gleamed up at me.  I ran my fingers through, to make sure the box didn't have a false bottom, but I wasn't about to count it. "Looks about right," I murmured.

"Well enough.  Safe conduct to the gate?"

Yanulis crooked another finger, and one of the black-robed men stepped forward. "This one will conduct you.  My thanks, Ark'ard'dro – your bargain seems almost too good to be true.  If these books are what you say they are, they are worth many times the price you ask."  There was a questioning, challenging tone to his voice.

But the kid wasn't bothered.  "In my opinion, the Shtakmir library was considerably over-rated.  When you examine the material for yourself, you may agree.  But I give you my word that you will still find the price more than fair."

The other bowed once more.  "Farewell, Ark'ard'dro."

So that was the end of that.  We took our gold, and our horses, including the pack animals and what was left of the supplies, and departed Darktower without further fuss. Still, we didn't stop to parcel out the pay until we were well clear of Karthyn.  There were exactly six hundred kotani in the box, not a single one more nor less.  And all Arkard would take was the hundred I'd promised him, though he did keep my old sword.

When we got up the next morning, he was gone.  Vanished like the demon did, almost.  I never saw him again, never heard anybody mention him.  But then I suppose he changed his alias again, or maybe went back to being a sorcerer instead of a sellsword, and started using his real name, which I never knew.  But I thank all the gods he was around to be hired for that job!  And I've never worked for a magician since!