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hand, resting upon the stone, was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. 'Do I have your gracious permission to ask my favor?'
    WELL . ..AT LEAST YOU ARE WORTHY, AS ARE THE OTHER TWO WHO COWER NEXT TO OUR CRAG . . . WHAT DO YOU WANT, ORRION WINCANTOR?
    'Great Lords of the Sky, if - if you will, grant me a miracle. Let me be able to wed my true love, Nyla Brackenfield, daughter to Count Hale Brackenfield, Lord Lieutenant of the Realm.'
    There was silence. His right hand grew ever more painful, but he dared not lift it. Finally the inhuman voices spoke again, seeming puzzled.
    WHY DO YOU REQUIRE A MAGICAL INTERVENTION MERELY IN ORDER TO MATE WITH YOUR CHOSEN PERSON?
    'I - Great Lords, I'm the High King's son, heir to the throne of Cathra and the Iron Crown of Sovereignty. My father
    Conrig has picked another wife for me, in spite of my wishes. I must obey him for the sake of my princely honor.'
    The demons fell into a silence that seemed endless.
    Orrion forced himself not to cry out. The burning sensation in his hand continued to grow and was fast becoming unbearable. 'Great Lords, if my request cannot be granted, then I humbly beg your pardon for having disturbed you. My brothers and I will depart from your mountain forthwith.'
    WE THINK THE REQUEST IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. IT IS HARD FOR THE SKY REALM TO INTERACT WITH THE GROUND BECAUSE IT UPSETS THE GREAT BALANCE OF POWER, BUT WE ARE WILLING TO HELP YOU. YOU WILL PAY A GREAT PRICE FOR THIS FAVOR. ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THAT YOU WANT IT?
    'Yes. Please.'
    THEN LIFT YOUR RIGHT HAND FROM THE MOON CRAG AND HOLD IT ALOFT.
    For a moment, Orrion didn't understand. Then he realized he was being told to let go of that awful piece of hot rock. 'Yes! Oh, thank you!' In a paroxysm of gratitude, he thrust his arm heavenward and dared to open his eyes.
    He saw blackness around him, and abundant diamond-sharp twinkling stars, as though night had inexplicably fallen and he hung suspended in the heavens high above the earth. A formless drift of multi-hued Light, that slowly took the shape of many mournful faces, shone among the familiar polar constellations. Then a blue flare blinded him as it engulfed most of his uplifted arm like a blast of silent lightning.
    He fell from the sky into nothingness, feeling no pain.
    * * *
    Orry! Orry, my poor twin, are you alive?'
    'He breathes. I can feel his heart beating. Draw closer to shield him from the elements.'
    Slowly, Orrion Wincantor, Prince Heritor of Cathra, opened his eyes. A folded cloak pillowed his head and another covered his body. He was chilled but not otherwise uncomfortable. A cold drizzle was falling. His brothers knelt beside him.
    Take a sip of this brandy,' Vra-Bramlow urged, lifting him so he could drink. The fiery spirit burnt his gullet, then settled in a glowing pool in his belly. 'Can you move?'
    'Yes. Help me to sit up.'
    They assisted him. Orrion looked about and realized that they were still at the summit of Demon Seat and it was yet daytime - although the louring grey clouds now hung so close it seemed a man might reach up and touch them. Corodon was strangely excited, while Bramlow's face was stiff with shock and his eyes red from weeping.
    Orrion managed a reassuring smile. 'Have I been senseless long?'
    'Perhaps half an hour,' Bramlow said. 'We - we were very worried about you. The change in weather came very quickly. It might snow. We were wondering how to carry you to a more sheltered place when you finally came to yourself -thanks be to God!'
    'Well, I'm quite all right,' Orrion said. 'It seems I've survived my encounter with the demons.'
    'What were they like?' Corodon asked eagerly. 'We saw nothing of them, only a sudden dazzling light, and then you were lying on the rocks.'
    'After I begged my boon, I found myself afloat in a dark sky. I saw a multitude of ghostly faces glowing among the stars -'
    'Zeth save us!' Bramlow exclaimed. But he bit off the words he would have said next, not wanting Orrion to know that he'd