'Unwary?' Yoleth echoed. Her web, so beautifully simple, was tangling to uselessness with his every word.

'Surely you know what I mean. The ones who have let go the reins of their minds; the drunken, the grieving, the mad, or the extremely weary. Those I can call at random, and do, sometimes, for the sake of balancing the Gate, or to find a new mind to amuse my Master. But I cannot call one of your choosing. You must set your own trap; I can but spring it.'

'Once sprung, will it hold?' Yoleth doubted bitterly. 'This is not the bargain I made. It is not what I thought your master offered. What else will you tell me is different? The Limbreth said that once she was through the Gate, I need trouble about her no longer. Is that true, or is there a string on this as well? What assurances do I have that this Gate of yours will hold her in, or others out?'

'You have our word on these things,' the Keeper replied stiffly. 'I can call the unwary through the Gate. And the Gate is impassable, unless I will otherwise, for I am the Keeper of the Balance and the Matcher of Worlds! The Limbreth, with your aid, can open the Gate. But only a Keeper can reconcile the meetingof two worlds. Their differences alone are enough to seal the Gate against most passage; I am enough to seal it against anything else.'

'Prove it!' Yoleth snapped out the words.

The Keeper drew himself up straight. 'I know not why my master would have doings with those who doubt my words,' the Keeper grumbled. 'But if the Limbreth has agreed, who am I to refuse? Wait, then, and watch. Speak no word, I will wastefully spend the one already chosen from our side; I will reach and call for one from yours.'

The Keeper went silent. He stood unmoving within the rectangle of the Gate, his dark bulk limned by the deep reds behind him.