"A human," Guerrand repeated. "What does this person look like?"
The Ethereal is vast, and even I cannot see everywhere at once. However, I have read the creature's mind. The ki-rin paused, head tilted. This human seeks Bastion and you,Guerrand DiThon.
Guerrand started. Who but Maladorigar and the Council of Three knew he was here? The gnome couldn't possibly have found his way to the outer edges of Bastion. Only a mage could have made that journey. Could Justarius have told Esme of his position?
My instructions are to slay intruders, said the ki-rin.
"Wait," Guerrand commanded. "Continue monitoring the person's movements," he told the ki-rin. "Prevent the intruder from penetrating the demiplane, but do nothing else without my direcdon."
Guerrand spun away from the diorama and searched the shelves that surrounded the sphere's door. They contained components for spells, as well as other magical devices that allowed passage through each of the uninhabitable protective spheres around Bastion. Guerrand sought the oil that would permit him to travel through mercury and observe the intruder at a safe distance.
He spotted the appropriate label on a cobalt-blue bottle. Pouring the oil into his palm, he spread it over his skin and clothing like lotion. He felt his consciousness separate from his physical body, like the yoke from the white of an egg. He could think and see as usual, but he felt weightless. Guerrand looked down at his arms and hands and saw both his body and its dark reflection. His physical self would remain in the scrying sphere, while his conscious shadow would explore the hsrhtless ring of mercurv.
Guerrand rested dark, flat palms upon the lefthand portion of the diorama's mercury border and intoned the magical words, "Illethessius umbra intentradolum."
Guerrand slipped like fog into a sea of warm, dark quicksilver. It enveloped him, rolled over his shadow form in thick, heavy waves. He was as buoyant as a bubble, though without its delicate nature. As shadow,
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he saw in the darkness of the mercury as people see in light. He stretched his dark, shadow-flat arms and swam toward the distant grayness of the Ethereal Plane.
Guerrand was stopped at the farthest edge of the mercury moat by the defenses of the demiplane and could not see into the Ethereal.
Ki-rin, he called telepathically, bobbing in the sea of mercury.
Yes, high defender, the guardian creature responded.
Open a window to your plane so that 1 can see who seeks me.
As instructed, a curtain of gray slowly parted.
Standing in the mists of the Ethereal Plane was a red- robed mage Guerrand knew well. "Lyim Rhistadt," he hissed.
Lyim heard his old friend's voice, and he spun around to face the wall of black mercury. His snake arm hissed at the sudden movement. Lyim unconsciously cursed the vile creature.
Squinting into the darkness of the quicksilver he said, "Rand, is that you? I've been sending message after magical message to you, but I was beginning to think I'd never draw your notice."
"You drew it," Guerrand said grimly. "You must have stepped briefly from the Ethereal into the mercury, because you set off the alarms in Bastion. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, of course," said Lyim, trying to sound jocular. "You might at least say hello, after my extraordinary efforts to find you."
When Guerrand said nothing, Lyim frowned. "Can't you make yourself visible? I feel foolish talking to a black sea."
Consisting now only of shadow, Guerrand could not rise above the mercury. So instead he formed the mercury to himself and pressed upward slightly against the surface, forming a slight, three-dimensional image of his face on the smooth, silvery stream.
"How did you determine the location of Bastion's plane?" Guerrand demanded. "It's a well-guarded secret."
"I had a piece of the exact red granite used for its walls and a visual memory of you to home in on. That spell brought me as far as this border, but I've been unable to get any closer."
"Bastion's defenses are far too powerful," said Guerrand proudly. "A ki-rin was moments from slaying you as it was." His mercury-delineated eyes squinted suspiciously. "Where did you find the granite?"
"Come on, Rand," Lyim said evasively, "you know I'm a resourceful guy"
"I also know you're not one to go through all this trouble just to chat with an old friend," Guerrand said evenly.
Despite his annoyed tone, Guerrand's silvery face showed conflicting emotions. Lyim believed he also saw a measure of warmth.
"You know me too well, Rand, so I'll not mince words, said Lyim. I need a favor that only you can grant me.I’ve learned through painstaking research that in order to restore my hand I must recreate the portal to the Lost Citadel Belize constructed on Stonecliff. Bastion is the one place left where that's possible — Lyim paused for effect. 'Bring me into Bastion, Rand and we can work together to restore my hand."
“I can’t do that " Guerrand responded softly, but without hetistation. "I can’t let anyone into Bastion." Don’t answer so quickly." said Lyim. "Just think…
"I'm sorry, Lyim," said Guerrand, "but there's nothing to think about. I took an oath to prevent anyone from entering Bastion."
"I don't ask this lightly," growled Lyim. "Believe me when 1 say that I've literally been to the ends of Krynn trying to get my hand back."
"And I don't refuse you lightly," said Guerrand. "No one would like to help you more. But you of all people understand what it is to be a mage, to pledge your life to magic and magic alone. I strengthened that pledge when I took the position of high defender. To violate that vow, here at the final stronghold before the Lost Citadel, would betray all magic and all mages-everything that I stand for. I can't do it, even for you, Lyim."
Lyim regarded the profile in the gray-black wall with an uncontrollable sneer. "You were my last remaining hope, Rand."
"Have you petitioned the Council for entrance?"
"Those three help no one but themselves," snapped Lyim. "Your master promised to find a cure for my hand." He held up his mutated right limb; the snake sputtered and hissed above his head. "You can see the result of his promise at the end of my arm. Justarius knew there was only one cure for my hand. If he had been willing to let me recreate the portal to the Lost Citadel, he would have suggested it himself."
"Perhaps they'll make an exception to their rule, considering your heroism at Stonecliff," Guerrand suggested. "I'd be willing to petition them on your behalf."
Lyim could see the pity in Guerrand's silvery face, could hear it in his tone. It angered him more than Guerrand's refusal to let him into the stronghold. "A supreme sacrifice, I'm sure, from the man whose life and family I saved."
Lyim exploded in helpless, caustic laughter. "It occurs to me that once again I play the fool in this friendship. I thought you were the one person who wouldn't let me down, if only out of a guilty sense of debt." Lyim's hysterical laughter hiccuped to an angry sob. "Seems your ambition is greater than your guilt these days."
"This isn't about such transitory things," Guerrand said coldly. "My position has taught me that Bastion's purpose is far more important than one man's guilt- or another's hand. It's about the survival of magic, of life. I won't make a choice that puts that in jeopardy."
"Everything is a question of choice."
"Petition the Council," Guerrand urged more strongly.
But Lyim scarcely heard him. Once again, he realized that he was the only one he could rely on.
"I'll help you any other way I can, Lyim."
Lyim vaguely heard Guerrand's voice through the fog of his bitterness. "There is no other way," he responded, low and threatening.
"Then I'm truly sorry." Guerrand's rubbery profile disappeared from the surface of the mercury wall.
"Not as sorry as you will be." In a vessel-bursting fury, Lyim dispatched himself from the Ethereal Plane with a magical wave of his left arm. Guerrand DiThon might be safely back in the confines of his precious Bastion, but Lyim Rhistadt was far from through with him.