Pol nodded. He rose and removed a book from a shelf high on the lefthand wall. He returned to his seat and began paging through it.

"This one got through all of your alarm spells without giving warning," Mouseglove continued.

"He was better than I am," Pol said, without looking up from the book.

"So what is to be done?"

"Here," Pol said, locating the page he sought and reading silently for a time. "I had been wondering about this for some time," he went on. "Every four years there is a gathering of sorcerers at Belken, a mountain to the northwest. Ever hear of it?"

"Of course--as a good thing to stay away from."

"It will begin in about two weeks. I've decided to attend."

"If they're all like this fellow--" Mouseglove nodded toward the form upon the floor. "--I don't think it would be a very good idea."

Pol shook his head.

"The description makes it sound rather peaceful. Advanced practicioners discuss theory with one another, apprentices are initiated, rites involving more than one sorcerer get tried out, exotic articles are traded and sold, new effects demonstrated ..."

"The person behind this attempt on your life may be there."

"Exactly. I'd like to settle this quickly. It may all be some sort of misunderstanding. After all, I haven't been around long enough to have made any real enemies. And if the one I seek isn't there, I may learn something about him--if there is such a person. Either way, it makes it seem worthwhile."

"And that will be your only reason for going?"

"Well, no. I also feel the need for some formal training in the Art. Perhaps I can pick up a few pointers at something like that."