I shook my head as I met his eyes.

“It really doesn’t make sense in my case,” I said. He continued to stare until I felt uncomfortable. “Does it?” I finally asked.

“Well…” he said. “Give it some thought.”

I did. And just as the notion came to me, Mandor nodded as if he viewed the contents of my mind. “Jurt,” he said, “met the changing times with a mixture of delight and fear. He was constantly talking of the latest deaths and of the elegance and apparent ease with which some of them were accomplished. Hushed tones interspersed with a few giggles. His fear and his desire to increase his own capacity for mischief finally reached a point where they became greater than his other fear — ”

“The Logrus…”

“Yes. He finally tried the Logrus, and he made it through.”

“He should be feeling very good about that. Proud. It was something he’d wanted for years.”

“Oh, yes,” Mandor answered. “And I’m sure he felt a great number of other things as well.”

“Freedom,” I suggested. “Power,” and as I studied his half amused expression, I was forced to add, “and the ability to play the game himself.”

“There may be hope for you,” he said. “Now, would you care to carry that through to its logical conclusion?”

“Okay,” I responded, thinking of Jurt’s left ear as I floated away following my cut, a swarm of blood-bead: spreading about it. “You think Jurt sent the Fire Angel.

“Most likely,” he replied. “But would you care to pursue that a little further?”

I thought of the broken branch piercing Jurt’s eyeball as we wrestled in the glade…

“All right,” I said. “He’s after me. It could be a part of the succession game, because I’m slightly ahead of him; on that front, or just plain dislike and revenge — or both.”

“It doesn’t really matter which,” Mandor said, “in terms of results. But I was thinking of that crop-eared wolf that attacked you. Only had one eye, too, it seemed…”