Keeping track of the Doppelganger executioner's unhurried but blood chilling progress out of the side of his eye, David allowed the alarm that had seized him to show openly, and spun about to confront Pemberton. "Why do you have a woman strapped to one of those posts?"

The Tweaker, his expression neutral, raised both hands in a calming gesture.

"That thing is not a woman. That is a Ceasg in human guise."

Pemberton then stepped forward to place a hand on David's shoulder. His manner was obviously intended to be avuncular in nature, but there was a hint of self-consciousness in his demeanor. David did not welcome the rather discomfort-inducing contact, but he did not shrug off the hand or draw away from the Tweaker.

"You may not be aware of this, David — the general public is certainly oblivious to the current danger — but there are a large number of uncontrolled ainmhithes at loose in the world, ones that have broken from the natural order of their existence and have severed their adjuring by truly heinous means."

"I've heard rumors of things," David allowed in order to maintain Pemberton's focus.

"Oh, indeed! These dangerous renegades remain in hiding for the most part, but some of the bolder amongst them have organized themselves into radicalized groups to pursue a violent, militant insurgency against mankind! Some of the more intelligent leaders of these groups have falsely proclaimed that their primary purpose is to advocate for the betterment of the lot of ainmhithes in modern society, but it is clear to all of us that their true aim is to pursue savage rebellion against the supremacy of human magic. While they are not numerous, their travel and listening magics give them ready access to places and information. So that we might make use of those abilities in our efforts to access the caledfwlch, we in the Society of Enlightenment have feigned a measure of sympathy for their cause."

David nodded, letting his expression show tentative acceptance. The executioner was not yet far enough along.

"That particular ainmhithe," Pemberton continued, taking his hand from David's shoulder to wave it dismissively in the direction of the condemned ainmhithes in the courtyard, "spoke for one group with which we have had extensive dealings. Once we had acquired the caledfwlch, however, we had no further need of their cooperation but did have an overriding requirement for another readily harvestable ainmhithe. As you can see, all of the creatures are in a deep trance state to prevent undue distress and will, of course, be put down in a safe, mercifully quick, and humane manner."

The Thin Man executioner had covered about a third of the distance to Gwenhwyvar. David made himself relax. To prevent Pemberton from alerting the Doppelganger guards who stood by just a few steps behind them at the entrance to the corridor, he had to make the Tweaker believe that he accepted his explanation.

"So, these runaway ainmhithes want the Primal Spell to be tweaked?"

Pemberton frowned slightly. "I'm afraid that our participation in the negotiations with them were just a product of the needs of the moment. Of course, we never believed their assurances for even a moment. They presented their interest in the caledfwlch as no more than a desire for self-preservation. We have always had spies in their ranks and knew that they also wanted to secretly introduce a minor alteration into one of the mechanisms before they presented the consignment to us. They believe that this change would have had the effect, once the tweaked caledfwlch has been completed on Moon Watch Night, of negating all adjurations and preventing their casting in future. As I am sure you are aware, this would have ignited a global catastrophe."

In spite of his fear for Gwenhwyvar, David frowned.

Controlled ainmhithes were ubiquitous, though often out of sight, in human society. In cities, nearly every home and building had modern conveniences provided by Eiras, Ellylldans, and loisjeans. Thousands if not millions of Kelpies supplied physical power to transportation and agriculture. Every warehouse and granary had Bheulachs to control vermin. Sewers in all modern cities were serviced and cleaned by Bodachs. He could think of at least a dozen other less common ainmhithes that were used throughout the world as adjuncts to everyday human endeavor.

Though no written histories of the time before the birth of human magic survived, uncounted myths and legends did exist. These were almost unanimous in their emphatic message: in that wild age, the world had been a savage and dangerous place inhabited by legions of ferocious and powerful ainmhithes whose encounters with an impotent mankind had quite often proven deadly. He had only to consider his own recent encounters with rare and powerful ainmhithes to confirm the potential danger of magical creatures, and there was little doubt in his mind that if the restraints of adjuration were suddenly and universally removed, havoc would ensue.

Truly troubled, David said, because he somehow felt the need to have the obvious confirmed, "That would release all the ainmhithes everywhere."

The Thin Man was now but steps from Gwenhwyvar.

"Indeed," Pemberton said with a somber expression. "If they had succeeded in their plan, every magical beast of burden would have been instantly released on an unprepared world. The loss of life would have been great and very likely catastrophic. The calamity that we are working to prevent would simply have been replaced by another equally devastating one."

The executioner was very close.

Giving no warning, David kicked Pemberton in the groin, leaping upward as he vaulted off his left foot to impart added force to the snap kick of his right.

The impact picked the Tweaker up almost a foot off the floor of the balcony. At the apex of his trajectory, Pemberton's face went rigid and white. Not having the time or any inclination to see the man land, David dove over the railing, curled into a ball when he hit the pavement below, and bounced up immediately into a sprint. Just as the Thin Man executioner drew back his arm to swing his blade at Gwenhwyvar's throat, he tackled the Doppelganger and slammed him to the hard stone.

The crushing force of the impact drove the breath from the Thin Man, leaving him gasping and twitching, but as David disentangled himself he made sure of the artificial swordsman with two quick knees to the groin — the second driven with enough energy to do permanent injury. With the Doppelganger disabled — it appeared to have immediately lost consciousness — David jumped to his feet.

On the balcony, Pemberton, doubled over, clutching at his injury, and hacking out spittle slurred bits of vile curses, straightened sufficiently to scream through his tears, "Kill him! Kill him now!"

David spun to Gwenhwyvar and grabbed the chains that hung from her dangling wrists. The ends of the chains were solidly fixed to the post by means of a shiny and solid steel ring that was fastened in place with an equally new-looking thick, square-headed steel bolt. Half a dozen, back-straining yanks did absolutely nothing. He dropped the chains, grabbed Gwenhwyvar's shoulders, and shook her without trying to be gentle.

"Gwenhwyvar! Change into your other form! Break yourself free!"

Aside from swaying back and forth slightly as he shook her, the fake woman did not react and gave no indication that she was aware of his existence. Her unblinking eyes remained fixed and unfocused.

He heard a slight sound behind him, dropped under a slashing blade, spun, and kicked out to drive his boot heel into a Moustache's belly. The kick punted the guard back into a trio of closely following Doppelgangers and all four sprawled in a clumsy heap upon the hexagonal Zimic stone pavement.

Sweeping up a dropped sword before the almost pitifully awkward Doppelgangers could recover, he dispatched the quartet with lightning flicks of the blade against exposed parts of their vital anatomy, hitting specifically throat, jugular, nape, and spine. Each obligingly dissolved into a wash of thin vapor that dissipated within seconds.

Pounding boots and a sweeping glance warned that dozens of other guards had begun to flood into the hall from the corridor entrances located at the cardinal points. He could only have seconds before he would be overwhelmed just as he had been in the Ddraig's courtyard.

"Gwenhwyvar!"

Again she did not respond. David's eyes leapt at a thought to the other ainmhithes.

The Blaidd, also in an identical stupor, was directly behind Gwenhwyvar, just half a dozen steps away. He dashed towards it, arriving in front of the fearsome creature hardly two steps ahead of the next wave of Doppelgangers, and swung his left fist as hard as he could at the ainmhithe's fang bedecked jaw.

The Blaidd's lupine head snapped back and then the ainmhithe exploded in a flurry of raking claws and slashing teeth.

David threw himself prone as the ainmhithe leapt forward with a lightning burst of strength, ripping the post from its mounting bolts with a single ear-piercing shriek of sheared metal. As chains and post, deadly missiles in their own right, flapped after it like a cape, the Blaidd fell upon the first thing to infringe upon its relentless rage — the mass of charging Doppelgangers.

Crawling frantically away from the carnage as the vapor of eliminated Thin Men and Moustaches began to spread like a ground fog, David moved behind the shelter of the fat base of the nearest Zimic column. After a few seconds to catch his breath, he threw a glance around the column towards the balcony, but Pemberton, his hopefully fractured testicles, and his Doppelganger guards, were not in sight. Rising to a crouch, he darted to the outside wall and scuttled along it in a heart-pounding rush back to Gwenhwyvar, with the screeches of the Blaidd echoing flatly off the walls as it moved inexorably in the opposite directing into the ever thickening mob of Doppelgangers.

A hard slap rocked Gwenhwyvar's head, leaving her cheek and jaw red, but did not break her free of the magic that had bedazzled her. He grabbed her shoulders again and shook her with panic induced force.

"Gwenhwyvar, you have to wake up now!"

The ainmhithe's unfocused eyes moved lazily, then cleared in an instant. She abruptly stiffened with an angry snarl and a hard twist of her shoulders that wrenched her free of his grasp.

"David! Stop that! What is wrong with you?"

Knowing well that she was fully as dangerous as the Blaidd, he backed away a quick step.

When her gaze fell to her chains, fear flashed across Gwenhwyvar's face and she erupted into a manic struggle against them fueled by savage panic, but then within a bare moment she stopped, visibly forcing herself to be still. Anger took hold of her expression, as she hissed through bared teeth.

He slid back another step to make sure that he was out of reach. "You have to change into the fishy thing right now and break free!"

Gwenhwyvar's head twitched in an adamant negative. "No!"

"You have to! We have no time!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I just can't!"

Grinding out a strangled growl in frustration, he snapped his head back and forth, seeking another solution.

The chains from her wrist shackles were made of forged links and he was sure that nothing short of hardened steel would cut them, but small brass padlocks secured the shackles themselves.

He leaned out to look up the aisle. The other three stupefied ainmhithes remained chained to their posts. The Blaidd had reached the far end of the hall and was currently scything through yet another wave of Doppelgangers, the evaporating swordsmen's evacuated accoutrements spewing out behind the creature like husks from an automatic pea shelling mechanism.

"David!" Gwenhwyvar leaned out, straining against her chains as she tried to follow his gaze. "What's happening?"

Without bothering to shush her, he ran back to the wake of garments, weapons, and armor that had formed behind the Blaidd. He shouted with glee when he found a ring of keys in the sixth pair of trousers that he went through.

When he freed her, Gwenhwyvar straightaway shouldered him aside. One quick glance at the drainage channel, the bowl reservoir, and another up the aisle apparently revealed to her what had been about to transpire.

"We were going to be harvested for our blood." Her voice was even and unperturbed. She had her anger under tight control and it did not show in her face, but her hands trembled fractionally. Whether this was from a frustrated desire to rend and destroy or from contained fear was not readily apparent.

"I'll explain later. Right now we just need to get out of here. Follow me!"

As he started to turn away, she grabbed his arm. "Give me the keys."

"We don't have time for the others! Come on!"

Face grim, she shook her head. "I'm not leaving without them."

For just an instant, he thought about abandoning her to the Doppelgangers, but then looked beyond her to see the Blaidd drive the dozen surviving Doppelgangers into a side passage. Gritting his teeth, he tossed her the key ring.

"Hurry! If the Blaidd comes back, he'll chew us up and spit us out just like the Thin Men and the Moustaches."

She flashed him a curious look at these odd names, but caught the keys and straightaway ran to the Kelpie. It had a single chain attached to a steel collar and in an adroit moment both collar and chain dangled free. A quick stroke of her hand on its mane brought the sturdy black ainmhithe awake.

Twilling sounds that were not quite language came from Gwenhwyvar's mouth. These the Kelpie, with more seeming intelligence than David had thought the creatures capable of, clearly understood. Spinning about, it took off at a dead run, going left across the hall and passing through the column line on that side, and charged through the eastern entrance into the empty corridor beyond.

Not pausing to make sure of its escape, Gwenhwyvar had already run on to the next imprisoned ainmhithe, the Fenodyree.

David followed, throwing his head back and forth to make sure that the balcony remained clear, that the Blaidd did not return, and that the corridor entrances remained unblocked by guards or other threats.

His anxiety made him snap in harsh complaint when he caught up with her. "Hurry it up!"

Gwenhwyvar had the small ainmhithe's chains off just as quickly. This time she simply poked the Fenodyree in the stomach with a stiff finger to draw a reaction.

"Oww! Quit that, you silly twit!"

With short hair of a light blond shade that struck David as decidedly un-Fenodyree-like, the small female ainmhithe spoke in a melodious voice that nevertheless had a jarring overlay of raw and continual sarcasm. Rather than looking like the always plump, matronly, and very nearly sexless illustrations of female Fenodyree from his childhood books, this one was unquestionably female.

In relative terms — she was, after all, only eighteen inches tall — she had a markedly well proportioned figure, including a taut, narrow waist, a generous bosom, a full fleshed bottom, and slim legs whose length was emphasized by bare feet. Her supple, always moving hands lured attention in a natural fashion to shapely, athletic arms. Likewise, her prominent cheek bones and large, green eyes focused David's gaze automatically on a pleasant countenance with a cute nose and fleeting dimples.

Very little of her physical form was concealed by her attire, which was downright scandalous when compared to current urban human fashion and consisted only of an abbreviated skirt, apparently cut from an old pair of men's black wool trousers, and a red and blue bandeau that looked like nothing more than a common human handkerchief. The skirt rode low, starting below the tops of her hip bones and ending mid-thigh. Secured about her neck by a golden ring and across the back by a length of platted red yarn attached to the trailing edges, the bandeau left her midriff, arms, and back bare and ineffectively concealed her bosom, the full undersides of which tended to peak out when she moved. Had she been human — and human-sized — David would have judged her — in a purely academic fashion of course — voluptuous and enticing. As it were, her diminutive stature caused him to consider her barely clothed appearance as somehow improper, if not down right indecent.

Flashing white teeth that still looked entirely human, Gwenhwyvar gave the Fenodyree a hard stare. "Shut up and come with us."

Eyes going slightly wide, the small being bobbed her head in immediate capitulation. "Yes ma'am!"

Clearly, he realized, the little ainmhithe had recognized Gwenhwyvar for what she truly was. Still vigilant, though the hall remained vacant save for him and the ainmhithes, he trailed behind the females as they ran to the Uisge. As was the Fenodyree way, the small female kept pace with Gwenhwyvar in spite of the fact that her stride was only a fraction of that of the larger ainmhithe.

The Uisge's bindings were similar to those of the Kelpie and Gwenhwyvar had hardly reached it before it too was freed and patted into alertness.

The stately creature, magnificent in its shimmering ivory coat, turned its head and considered the three of them with evident curiosity, flicking its luxurious tail in calm interest.

In quick decision, David caught Gwenhwyvar about the waist with both hands, gave a mighty effort as she tensed and began to try to twist out of his grasp, hoisted her up high, and dropped her onto the Uisge's back. Landing side-saddle, she made an immediate move to slide off, but of course remained firmly seated, fixed in place by the Uisge's magic.

Vexed but clearly not angry, she blew out a puff of air then said, "When we were ready to go, I was going to suggest that we use her to escape as you did with the Uisge in New Fyrdsworth." She leaned down and stuck out a hand towards him. "No matter. Get on."

He shook his head. "I came here to retrieve the caledfwlch. I'm going to find the Ddraig. Get going. Once a Uisge is running, walls and magic can't stop it."

"I know that!" she ground out. "I'm not leaving without you."

"I won't leave without the consignment."

"You idiot! Get on!"

"Can we hold off with the flirting long enough to get me on board Bhictoria?" the female Fenodyree demanded. "Or were you planning to leave me behind?"

Angry and frustrated, David bent instantly to catch her up, his fingertips meeting around her lean, muscular, and very unchildlike midriff.

"Watch the groping, big guy!"

Grimacing, he shifted his grip to avoid brushing her small though in relative terms significant bosom and swung the Fenodyree up behind Gwenhwyvar.

He heard the sound of an arrow slicing the air and belatedly ducked. Gwenhwyvar had already flattened across the Uisge's withers, and a second bolt shattered on the Zimic column behind her. When David, in a crouch, whirled about, he caught sight of two Moustaches drawing bows at the edge of the balcony. As the Uisge adroitly sidestepped into the protection of the western column line, he scurried out of the aisle and circled around behind it. The fat, closely spaced stone pillars blocked direct line of sight, but that did not prevent the Doppelgangers from loosing more arrows, which skittered across the pavement or chipped bits from the ancient pillars.

As David opened his mouth to demand that Gwenhwyvar flee, a great frustrated howling announced the return of the Blaidd, driven from out the passage by the conglomerate force of a seemingly endless torrent of Doppelgangers. Dozens were dispatched by mighty slashes of the beast's claws, but then its roaring began to grow ragged and labored as blades began to pierce its hide. Then the Blaidd's complaint abruptly ceased as the relentless Moustaches and Thin Men swarmed over it.

"This is your last chance, David!" Gwenhwyvar, her eyes tight, hissed. "Get on now or be left!"

Already the scores — no, hundreds — of Doppelgangers, all disconcertingly silent (human soldiers would have been shouting and cursing) had begun to rush towards them.

With a growl of frustrated anger, he threw up an arm to catch Gwenhwyvar's hand, and bounded up behind the Fenodyree. Before his rump landed, the Uisge bolted.

Arrows whizzed all about as the ainmhithe's muscles bunched and it gave a spectacular leap that carried it high above the walls of the hall. Rather than arcing down, it broke into a gallop, soaring as it raced up into the sky on a path of sparkling air. In seconds, the walls and domes of the temple fell far below and faded from view.