He did, cautiously, as Shadow-spawn snaked his neck around to rest his
muzzle on one outstretched foreleg. Nephlyte looked at the youma in
puzzlement. Shadow-spawn stared back, the white glow of his eyes seeming
to be full of amusement. He yawned, moving Nephlyte forwards a bit by
the distention of his rib cage, and displayed all of his fangs. Then his
eyelids closed and he heaved a great sigh and let the breath out as
little puffs of steam. Mender almost laughed out loud as he watched
Shadow-spawns by-play with the High Youma and Nephlyte's astounded
reaction. He covered his amusement by answering the question.

	"I don't know much about him. I have never seen him. Zoicite almost
killed him when he was still a Son of Man and the Great Queen took him
before the Dark Presence Itself for healing and baptism into the
Darkness. They say he is a powerful High Youma and will pass even the
Seven Shadows of lore when he comes into his full power. So now,
Nephlyte, you are caught up on the news and Aurora is mending. Will you
finish your own so you can take her from this place as soon as
possible?"

	Nephlyte nodded. "Soon. I will sit with her a little longer."

	Mender sighed in resignation as he rose. "I will bring you something to
eat then, to help fuel your healing."

	Nephlyte nodded again, then rested his cheek against the top of her
head, the silk of her hair a soft tickle against his neck.


	Mender expected that the High Youma would be asleep by the time he
returned. He glanced at the great double doors as he hurried to the
kitchen and thought about going to check and make sure they were
securely closed. He had adjusted the wards to allow Althea and
Shadow-spawn free egress into and out of the House and knew that earlier
crash had been caused by Shadow-spawn kicking open the doors in his
panic to get Althea to him. But they appeared to be intact and closed.
He'd double check after he got Nephlyte back into the pool, trusting to
the reputation they had for being impenetrable for the little while it
would take if by some chance they were not.


				***************


	By the time Endymion's head cleared the youma and Shadow-spawn where
gone. He let out a yell of frustration, not believing that this had
happened again. He put his fingers to the pain at the side of his head
and glared at the blood that showed on them when he brought them down.
First he would tend to this, then he would hunt that youma and
Shadow-spawn down. He summoned a Gate and stepped into his own chambers
in the Dark Fortress.

	The cut itself was small, maybe a half-inch but it hurt and he hissed
as he cleaned it and then pressed a cloth against it to get it to stop
bleeding. While he waited he tried to call a shadow to show him where
the youma and Shadow-spawn where. Nothing answered. He tried again.
Still nothing answered. He narrowed his eyes in thoughtful anger. The
only youma he knew who was powerful enough to hide them from him other
than the Queen herself was Malachite. But why would he do so? He checked
the cloth, dabbed at the cut one more time and then tossed it onto the
table as he left in search of Malachite and some answers.


	Malachite studied the holograph-like map that covered the large table
of his workroom. It showed the slow advance of the dark blots that
signified the massing of youma toward the Zenith Gate in the Southern
Wastes and the High Gate in the Eastern plains. Everything was on
schedule and the armies would be in position within five days. Beryl had
chosen to use the fixed Gates again when she launched her invasion, for
even though they took a huge amount of energy to open, once they where
activated and focused she would be free to lead them through and at her
full power instead of having to wait and keep Summoned Gates open as her
armies passed.

	Endymion flung open the door and stalked in. Malachite didn't bother to
look up as the Prince halted across the table from him, crossed his arms
and watched the map also.

	"What do you want, Endymion?" Malachite finally asked, wishing to be
rid of him.

	The slow throb of pain had already started up in his head. He had not
been able to get past the spell that Beryl had put on him, his efforts
resulting only in snatches of nightmares full of Zoicite and other vague
figures he did not recognize and a splitting headache whenever he had to
deal with Endymion for any length of time.

	"Who is this youma?"

	Malachite glanced up to the small flickering image standing on
Endymion's palm then returned his attention to the map as he shrugged.
"I don't know."

	"Look again," Endymion's voice was full of angry challenge.

	Malachite raised his head slowly, one eyebrow cocked and a small smile
of cruel amusement on his lips as he made a show of studying the image
carefully. The smile did not change as he absorbed the disturbing
information from the image and the young High Youma glowering before
him. The first thing was her remarkable resemblance to Endymion. The
second was the cut above Endymion's right eyebrow and the rose of
Endymion's power that was embedded in her side. That she slipped past
Endymion's guard enough to wound him and had taken that wound in return
yet had apparently escaped screamed High Youma at him. Yet he did not
know her and that started a small knot of worry in his mind to join the
headache.

	He shrugged nonchalantly again and began hunting for information. "I
don't know. You should really find out the names of your playmates
before you decide to kill them."

	Endymion closed his fingers in an angry gesture and squeezed the image
out of existence.

	"You don't know," his voice dripped with disbelieving sarcasm.

	Malachite shook his head. "Sorry. Is there some reason I should?"

	He kept his eyes on Endymion's face, knew the other youma was weighing
what and how much to tell him.

	"She is Shadow-spawn's rider."

	"Really?" Malachite echoed Endymion's earlier disbelief. "I have heard
rumors but have had no solid report. You saw her on his back?"

	He had dismissed them as nothing but that, rumors, and had been too
busy in organizing the armies to check on it. As soon as he could get
rid of Endymion he would remedy that.

	"No," Endymion looked a little uncertain.

	"Then how do you know this youma rides him, Prince Endymion? Other than
the rumors of Lesser youma?"

	Endymion dismissed that with an angry shrug. "It doesn't matter. She
attacked me when I had Shadow-spawn trapped and now I can't find her."

	He glared at Malachite, dared him to tell him she wasn't under his
protection.

	"Ah, I see," Malachite gave a little derisive snort. "You assume that
for some reason she is under my protection and I have hidden her from
you? Now why would I do that, Prince Endymion? I protect no one but
myself now. You should know that."

	"Then you call a shadow and show me where she or Shadow-spawn are now."

	If Malachite had hidden her he would have to refuse, for using his own
power to summon a shadow of their whereabouts would negate any spell he
had thrown to keep them from others' sight. He was surprised when the
other High Youma sighed with a false put-upon patience.

	"If you insist and it will get you out of my way," Malachite formed the
image of the horse-youma in his mind and told the shadows to find the
image of where it was now and show him.

	He frowned when nothing answered his summons. He tried with the image
of the female youma. Again, nothing answered. He narrowed his eyes as
Endymion stared at him with puzzlement. They both knew that he had cast
the spells truly. A Gate opened beside Endymion and their Queen's
throaty purr rang through it.

	"Endymion, come to me. I have something I wish you to do."

	"Where are they?" Endymion hissed at him.

	Malachite silenced him with a gesture. "The Queen summon you. I will
look into it and tell you what I find."

	Endymion's expression was guarded and full of suspicion as he nodded,
then stepped through the Gate. Malachite made a slow circuit around the
map table, only a small part of his attention on the movements it
showed. There where only two ways to avoid a shadow. One was to leave
the Dark Kingdom all together and he was certain that High Youma or not,
their mystery female would not be able to summon a trans-dimensional
Gate so wounded by Endymion's power. The other was to be resident in
Mender's House of Pain.

	No one was quite sure how that youma had managed it, but somehow
shadows could not get out of his House. Nor could one open a Gate into
or out of it. The only way to get into Mender's house was through his
front door and that had enough wards on it to give even the Queen a
problem getting through it if Mender so chose to close it against her.
It served a purpose, though, creating a Sanctuary for youma who where
too damaged to defend themselves against their enemies. He also realized
that Endymion would have no reason to know yet about Mender or his
House, Beryl having used the pure Dark energies of the Presence Itself
to heal him when she had taken him.

	The youma did not speak openly about The House of Pain out of fear and
a strange respect. To all of them it was a place of last resort used
only when life itself was threatened, making the pain of the healing
pools worth any price Mender asked. Malachite knew beyond doubt that
this was were the wounded youma he now hunted had gone and for some
reason Shadow-spawn had accompanied her.

	He went through the adjoining door that led to his private chamber and
pulled out a beautifully carved box from a chest. He held it between his
hands, his face reflecting his loss and sorrow from the memories it
summoned for a moment, then shook his head. His expression was hard and
cold as he put the box on the little table against the wall and opened
it. He looked over the jewelry sparkling against the black silk lining.
His hand hovered over the magnificent dark blue ring that had been the
first gift he had given Zoicite, then chose the lavender jade armlet
shaped like a dragon instead.  It had been Zoicite's favorite piece,
worn only for him in the privacy of this room. It would be a fitting
offering to get him into Mender's house. He could not bare to part with
that ring. Not yet. Then he summoned a Gate and had it leave him before
Mender's door.

	He stepped up to the door as he raised his fist, intent on giving it a
few solid thumps. His blow stopped just short of connecting as he
realized that one side of the double door was just a hairs breath shy of
being closed. He smiled darkly. Stupid of Mender not to make sure his
doors where shut. Anything could just wander in. Malachite slipped
through and shut the door firmly behind him. He slid into the shadows
and focused his vision to study the layers of wards that hung in the air
around him. He nodded to himself. Any attempt at spells not of Mender's
casting would set them off. Well, he'd just have to be careful to avoid
the Master of the House. He moved stealthily and kept to the shadows as
he worked his way down the hall, slipping into each chamber to check the
occupant of it's pool. Many were empty but he knew he'd find her.


				****************


	Nephlyte hadn't gone to sleep even though his body demanded that
relief. He still had questions he needed answered, things that had to be
decided. How Aurora had known to bring him to Mender needed to be
answered. Mender's cryptic statement about Shadow-spawn only existing to
protect Aurora needed an answer. He glanced at that youma's head where
it rested on his outstretched foreleg, the white fire of his eyes hidden
now as he dozed. That made no sense at all. Aurora was only seventeen
years old. Shadow-spawn had appeared in the youma records a thousand
years ago tethered to a small piece of territory that he would allow no
other to enter. Yet here he was now, letting a youma he had once tried
to stomp into the ground for daring to sit on his back rest against his
side. And Mender's own uncharacteristic behavior towards this human girl
needed an answer. And he had to formulate a plan to get Aurora and
himself out of the Dark Kingdom safely.

	She stirred a little against him, sighed, then cuddled closer. The
feelings that flooded over him where strange. And confusing. He was
Youma! Born from some powerful and dark dream of the Presence Itself.
That was how Youma came into being. Youma! Who by nature did not believe
in mercy, did not understand compassion and could not fathom the concept
of love. Youma, whose loyalties where dictated by fear and power and
shifted as easily as find sand in the wind. He knew these things were
the absolute truths of the Children of the Dark Presence. Yet here he
was, enthralled by this human girl. When exactly had she become so
precious to him? And he wanted desperately to know why. He studied the
beauty of her face for a few more minutes then carefully gathered her up
so he could move.

	He laid her back gently into the warm hollow Shadow-spawn had created
with his legs and body and made sure the fur was well tucked around her,
then ran his fingers down the curve of her face tenderly, then
straightened. Whatever the reason, it would have to wait. He knew that
the longer he stayed with her now the longer she would have to stay here
in the Darkness while he lay in the pool. And that was something he
would not subject her to. He would not wait for Mender, but go back in
now. He had just pulled the shirt off and was tossing it to the table
when the door opened. He turned his head, expecting to see Mender. The
two High Youma stared at each other in stunned shock.

	"You?!" Malachite snarled, a dark purple sphere of raw power forming in
his hand.

	Nephlyte tensed, ready to throw himself out of the way, heard
Shadow-spawn's angry hiss behind him and the sound of the youma surging
to his feet. The dark sphere winked out with a crackle as Malachite
stumbled forwards and sank to one knee, Mender's heavy tray having just
connected with the back of his head with a solid 'thwack'.

	Malachite steadied himself with one hand against the wall, the other to
the floor as the edges of his vision darkened and started to push
himself back up. Nephlyte laced his fingers together, drew back and
swung as hard as he could putting all his weight behind the blow. The
back of his doubled fists caught Malachite across the face as that youma
pushed himself up and sent him back into the wall to slump down
unconscious.

	Nephlyte stepped back as his body quivered with anger, exhaustion and 
a little fear. *By the Darkness Itself, that was too close!*

	Mender 'tsk'-ed to himself as he narrowed his eyes and frowned, all the
dire possibilities of this encounter spinning through his mind.
"Nephlyte, sit down before you fall down, please."

	The High Youma rumbled at him and ignored his advice, of course. He
just widened his stance to keep on his feet as he swayed,  then crossed
his arms and glared at the fallen form of Malachite.

	"We'll have to kill him."

	Mender narrowed his eyes and tapped at his chin with one long finger.
Yes, that would be the easiest solution to the problem, but the wisest?
He frowned as he mulled that over trying to see all the consequences of
that potential action. He had just about decided that Nephlyte was
correct when something happened that hadn't happened in a little over a
thousand years. His gift activated. His power had one last thing to show
him. He giggled as the future spun itself out before his eyes, showing
him the way. He nodded to himself. Yes. The scales always found a way to
balance themselves, even if it took a thousand years.

	Nephlyte's head snapped up at that uneasy sound and he scowled. "What
is so amusing, Mender?"

	"Oh, life, death, nothing, everything," Mender grinned back. "Can't
kill this one. Not yet. He still has an important part to play."

	"What are you rambling about? He knows I'm here and alive! As soon as
he comes to he's going to do his best to remedy that situation."

	"No. He won't. I'll see to that," the gleam in Mender's eyes made him
uneasy.

	"How?"

	"Oh, he wants something I can give him," Mender was all teeth.

	"And what would that be?" Nephlyte doubted that Mender had anything to
offer that Malachite might want as he watched the grey youma squat and
start to straighten the High Youma's body.

	"A memory. Nothing more. Yet he will pay dearly for it," Mender
muttered as he turned Malachite's head and probed the rising knot on his
skull with his long fingers.

	Nephlyte snorted. "I don't think so. Get me a sword."

	"No."

	"No?"

	Mender looked up into the anger that hadn't been reflected in that soft
question.

	"No. If it needs to be done, I will do it and in my own time. You have
no say in the matters of life and death in this House. Remember that,
High Youma."

	Nephlyte blinked in shock at the old youma as those cold deliberate
words sank in. At the moment he and Aurora were at Mender's mercy.
Mercy. A thing that the Youma did not believe in. It was foolish to
forget that. Especially when he was too weak to defend either of them.
He cocked one eyebrow at Mender.

	"So you expect me to place the safety of my life and Aurora's into your
assurances that you can control and contain a High Youma?"

	Mender "tsk"ed as he cast a spell to keep Malachite unconscious.

	"I don't think you have much of a choice now, do you, Nephlyte? In fact
I know you don't. So stop being so...obnoxious. I can and will keep him
controlled and contained, as you so delightfully put it, long enough for
you and Aurora to escape. Though I won't do it for nothing, of course,"
the maniacal grin never touched the cold calculation in his eyes.

	"And what price will you put on this piece of assistance, Mender?"
Nephlyte asked as he narrowed his eyes.

	"That you follow my instructions for the next four days. Very cheap for
the amount of work I'm going to have to do," Mender sighed heavily.

	"That depends on what those instructions are."

	Nephlyte waited for the trap. Youma bargains that traded on deeds and
promises where much more dangerous than an exchange for physical items.
They were like the human tale of the Monkeys Paw. You had to watch the
wording of them or you might just get exactly what you bargained for.

	Mender nodded. "They are simple enough. You will go with Aurora and
Shadow-spawn to the Zenith Gate under a ward I will cast for you, keep
her and yourself safe and undetected and escape. But you must be there
within four days or the contract is null and void and I let Malachite
go."

	"The fixed Gates will be opened for the armies to go through?" Nephlyte
questioned, still hunting for the trap.

	It was too simple of a request. Dare he accept the terms? What was he
missing?

	"Exactly. Easy enough for three youma to slip through with the rest of
the horde, dont'cha think?" Mender winked at him.

	"The whole thing is too easy. It is not like you, Mender," he eyed the
youma, confused and suspicious.

	"And how do you know what I am or am not like, High Youma? I have
stated my terms and conditions. They are as they are. Do you accept them
or not?"

	He watched Nephlyte consider, watched as Nephlyte glanced towards the
fur bundled shape that still slept peacefully and blissfully unaware of
her beloveds uncertainty and fear between the protection of
Shadow-spawn's carefully placed hooves.

	"And if I refuse?" Nephlyte tried a different track.

	"Ah, then I let Malachite wake up outside of my House. I will honor to
the letter the bargain Aurora and I made. It was that you would both
have the sanctuary of this House until you were healed enough to leave.
You may have the use of the pool until you are completely mended, then
you will leave. And Malachite and Beryl will be waiting for you."