st the dragging tide. I lifted my sword -- threw the sheath away. I cut at the golden mists that fettered me. Under the ancient steel the shining fog-wraiths shuddered and were torn apart -- and drew back. There was a break in the humming harmony; for an instant, utter silence.- Then -- "Matholch!" the invisible whisperer cried. "Lord Matholch!" The wolf crouched, fangs bared. I aimed a cut at its snarling mask. It avoided the blow easily and sprang. It caught the blade between its teeth and wrenched the hilt from my grip. The golden fogs surged back, folding me in their warm embrace. "Caer Llyr," they murmured. The Need-fire roared up in a scarlet fountain. "Caer Llyr!" the flames shouted. And out of those fires rose -- a woman! Hair dark as midnight fell softly to her knees. Under level brows she flashed one glance at me, a glance that held question and a fierce determination. She was loveliness incarnate. Dark loveliness.