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do around here is cook, if you can believe that." He laughed, then broke into a fit of coughing. When it was over, he hooked a thumb toward the cave.

"You better go see Sabastian. I'll fix up a big pot of stew for supper."

"This way," Karyn said, obviously impatient. Paul and Dorland followed her into the cave. Just inside the opening, an older man sat hunched over a rough wooden table. His attention was on something that had been disassembled and laid out across the table. A machine, but unrecognizable to Paul—an odd assortment of springs and cylinders and other small pieces. A few hand tools were arranged carefully on one side of the table. A woven basket on the ground beside the table held more parts.

The old man carefully fitted a thumb-sized cylinder over the end of a tube and tightened something at the end of the cylinder with a bladed tool. Then he placed the tool on the table and leaned back in the chair to regard Dorland.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding up the cylinder-and-tube assembly. His voice was dry and gravelly.

Dorland looked more closely at the object. "It's part of a power pack for a light globe."

"That's right. We had twelve of them when you were here. Now we're down to three. When those are gone, we will be forced to light wooden torches at night." Nobody had bothered with introductions, but Paul had already decided the old man was Dorland's uncle, Sabastian Avery. He was lanky, with a face composed of harsh angles and straight lines. His skin was sun-darkened and wrinkled. The family resemblance was unmistakable; in Sabastian's dark, brooding eyes, heavy brows and thick black hair, Paul saw an older version of Dorland.

Sabastian's eyes moved to Paul, and a single 70 William Greenleaf CLARION 71

bushy eyebrow rose slightly. Selmer Ogram cleared his throat and offered his brief explanation for Paul's presence. Sabastian nodded his acceptance and turned to select another cylinder from the basket beside the table.

"Thank you for coming back," he said. This brought no response from Doriand. Selmer Ogram disappeared into the cave and returned with two folded chairs. He set them up near the table and offered them to Paul and Doriand. He and Karyn sat facing them on a log that had been placed near the fire pit. Ogram clasped his hands between his knees and looked through them at the ground. Karyn's eyes were on Doriand.

"I'm sorry we had to ask you to come back," Sabastian went on. He plugged one end of a cable into the cylinder, and the other end into a small instrument he had placed in front of him on the table. He frowned, unplugged the cable and began removing the cap from the cylinder. "It wasn't an easy decision. I had hoped you would find a new life on the outside."

"I did. Selmer said you need my help." Sabastian looked up at Doriand, holding the cylinder shell carefully between thumb and forefinger. "There are only five of us left. Schaefer and Michelson are dead. And Cleve Quinton."

"I know," Doriand said quietly. "Cleve was first witness when Diana and I were married. Selmer said Cleve saw something come out of the chauka during the semarch ceremony."

The old man reached for the bladed tool again.

"Cleve wore a fartalker, and Karyn and Jacque were listening outside the wall. Cleve relayed what he saw until the deacons found him and killed him." He twisted the tool and the end popped off the cylinder, exposing a web of tiny wires. "He may have been hallueinating. We know he was under great stress."

"This happened during a religious ceremony?" Paul asked.

Sabastian nodded. "Semarch—when the young men are initiated into the Sons of God."

"Then you're probably right," Paul said. "About Cleve Quinton hallucinating, I mean. From what I've heard, that's fairly common among some religions. People get worked up to the point they may see anything."

"Perhaps."

Paul was more interested in something else

Sabastian had said. Erich Frakes had mentioned it also—a Tal Tahir machine. "What's the chauka?"

"The chauka is the most sacred of Tal Tahir artifacts," Sabastian said. He went back to work on the cylinder and made a delicate adjustment with the tool. "It is inside the temple of the Tal Tahir, and only the deacons and elders of the Holy Order are permitted to see it. According to legend, it is used to summon Lord Tern from beyond the Far Peaks."

"Selmer told me the Tal Tahir are all dead. As you said, this man Quinton must have been hallucinating. Why is the chauka so important to you?"

"The chauka is a symbol of Lord Tern. If we destroy it, the people of Fairhope will see that the Holy Order is not invincible. We hope they will learn to control their fear of the Holy Order and turn against it."

"Why do you need Doriand?"

Sabastian connected the cylinder to the instrument and frowned at the result. Once again he began prying gently at the cap. "I hope Doriand will agree to go into the sacred chamber and try to discover what Cleve saw during the semarch ceremony." Paul issued a grunt of surprise. "After what happened to him? How can you expect—"

"Cleve saw something that he thought was Lord 72 William Greenleaf CLARION 73

Tern," Sabastian said in the same quiet tone. "We want to find out what he saw. I have always believed that the ceremony was merely a ritual. Now I am not so sure."

The statement confused Paul. "Are you saying you think Lord Tern may really exist?"

"I am saying only that I want to leam what I can about what Cleve saw inside the sacred chamber."

"But if Lord Tern is a fabrication of the Holy Order—"

The old man turned to look at Paul. "It may be that what we have taken as myth and lies is actual fact. It may be that Lord Tern lives inside the temple."

Paul shook his head. He felt as if the conversation had drifted off somewhere and left him behind. Doriand sat silently beside him.

"Send someone else to the temple," Paul said at last to Sabastian. He waved a hand toward the thin, rough-looking man who had been waiting with K-aryn when the streamer landed. The man squatted near the fire pit talking to Olaf. He noticed Paul's attention and grinned. "He seems more the type to try something like that."

"Jacque Hakim is expert with weapons," Sabastian admitted. "But Doriand has been trained in the ways of the Holy Order and Lord Tern." He paused to concentrate on the fine work of removing the wiring from the cylinder. Paul wondered how he could have the patience to keep at it so persistently. Then he remembered what Sabastian had said. When these are gone, we will be forced to light wooden torches at night. "It is said that one must be properly trained before an encounter with Lord Tern. If not, his power will destroy your mind."

"How can—" Then Paul stopped and shook his head in confusion. "You're saying something happened to Cleve Quinton because he wasn't properly

. . . trained?"

"We don't know what happened during the ceremony, but we know that he was subjected to a mental trauma." Sabastian got up and moved to a small wooden box that was set against the cave wall. He opened the lid carefully and removed a tool. When he came back, Paul realized he walked with a heavy limp. He remembered something

Ogram had said to Doriand: He lost a leg to the deacons. "I don't know what happened to Cleve. There is much about the temple and the sacred chamber that we do not understand—secrets that are closely guarded by the Holy Order. I am hoping that Dorland's training will help him understand some of those secrets."

"You keep talking about Dorland's training. What do you mean?"

Sabastian's eyes flicked to Doriand, then back to Paul. "The deacons and elders go through a program of mental training that is meant to prepare them for communication with Lord Tern."

"The deacons and elders? But—" Paul stopped, his eyes going to Doriand. Doriand had pulled into himself and was seemingly oblivious to the discussion.

"Doriand was once in line for eldership in the Holy Order," Sabastian said.