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the fog-muffled fall of ironshod hooves on paving bricks. Drawing ever closer, a hollow, rhythmic knell that grew deafening in the absolute stillness. Clop-Clop Clop-Clop Clop-Clop CLOP-CLOP CLOP-CLOP. Approaching the inn unhurriedly. Inexorably approaching the mist-shrouded inn.
    "What is it?' He asked her, as she started upright in terror.
    "I know that sound. It's a black, black stallion, with eyes that burn like living coals and hooves that ring like iron!"
    Dragar snorted.
    "Ah! And I know his rider!"
    CLOP-CLOP CLOP-CLOP. Hoofbeats rolled and gobbled across the courtyard of the Inn of the Blue Window. Echoes rattled against the shutters... Could no one else hear their chill thunder?
    CLOP-CLOP CLOP. The unseen horse stamped and halted outside the inn's door. Harness jingled. Why were there no voices?
    From deep within the chambers below echoed the dull chink of the bolt and bars falling away, clattering to the floor. A harsh creak as the outer door swung open. Where was the innkeeper?
    Footfalls sounded on the stairs--the soft scuff of boot leather on worn planks. Someone entered the hallway beyond their door; strode confidently toward their room.
    Dessylyn's face was a stark mask of terror. Knuckles jammed against her teeth to dam a rising scream were stained red with drawn blood. Dread-haunted eyes were fixed upon the door opposite.
    Slipping into a fighting crouch, Dragar spared a glance for the bared blade in his taut grasp. No nimbus of flame hovered about the sword, only the deadly gleam of honed steel, reflected in the unnaturally subdued lamplight.
    Footsteps halted in front of their door. It seemed he could hear the sound of breathing from beyond the threshold.
    A heavy first smote the door. Once. A single summons. A single challenge. With an urgent gesture, Dessylyn signed Dragar to remain silent.
    "Who dares...!" he growled in a ragged voice.
    A powerful blow exploded against the stout timber. Latch and bolt erupted from their setting in a shower of splinters and wrenched metal. All but torn from its hinges, the door was hurled open, slammed resoundingly against the wall.
    "Kane!" screamed Dessylyn.
    The massive figure strode through the doorway, feral grace in the movements of his powerful, square-torsoed frame. A heavy sword was balanced with seeming negligence in his left hand, but there was no uncertainty in the lethal fury that blazed in his eyes.
    "Good evening," sneered Kane through a mirthless smile.
    Startled despite Dessylyn's warning, Dragar's practiced eye swiftly sized up his opponent. So the sorcerer's magic had preserved the prime of his years after all... At about six feet Kane stood several inches shorter than the towering barbarian, but the enormous hands of muscle that surged beneath leather vest and trousers made his weight somewhat greater. Long arms and the powerful roll of his shoulders signaled a swordsman of considerable reach and strength, although the youth doubted if Kane could match his speed. A slim leather band with a black opal tied back his shoulder-length red hair, and the face beneath the close-trimmed beard was brutal, with a savagery, that made his demeanor less lordly than arrogant. And his blue eyes burned with the brand of killer.
    "Come looking for your woman, sorcerer?" grated Dragar, watching the other's blade. "We thought you'd stay hidden in your tower, after I frightened off your slinking servants!"
    Kane's eyes narrowed. "So that's... Wizard's Bane, I believe you call it. I see the legends didn't lie when they spoke of the blade's protective powers. I shouldn't have spoken of it to Dessylyn, I suppose, when I learned that an enchanted sword had been brought into Carsultyal. But then, its possession will compensate in some part for the difficulties you've caused me."
    "Kill him, Dragar, my love! Don't listen to his lies!" Dessylyn cried.
    "What do you mean?" rumbled the youth, who had missed Kane's inference.
    The warrior wizard chuckled drily. "Can't you guess,