"Tell us, great Oracle," she said, "Where in the world must we go and what actions must we take to find and recover the Sceptre of Samnos and deliver it safely to those who can use it?"

     The Oracle smiled in approval. It loved it when people phrased their questions intelligently. "You must go to the Megran Mountains," it said. "South of Great Lake Megra. There, you must find the peak that men call the Thunderberg." The three wizards closed their eyes and focused on his words, committing them to memory.

     "In the southern slopes of the mountain are many caves," continued the Oracle. "You must find the cave with a Dougi bush growing by it. At the back of that cave is the entrance to the Maze of Samnos, which you must solve to reach the Sceptre. It is patrolled and guarded by undead creatures that you must avoid or destroy, or else they will destroy you and you will join them as guardians. Once you have the Sceptre, you must take it to a priest of Samnos of the rank of Captain or higher, who alone can wield it. I suggest that you take it to the Theocracy of Samnia, where you will find many such people."

     "Thank you, great Oracle," said Diana, when it fell silent. She looked over at Lirenna. "Did you get all that?" she asked. Lirenna and the other two wizards nodded.

     Shaun went forward to stand before the Oracle. "Did you say we can all ask a question?" he asked.

     "Is that your question?" asked the Oracle.

     "NO! NO!" cried Shaun. "By the Gods, no! I spoke without thinking!" He mopped his brow and heard the others sniggering behind him. "What I wanted to ask was, is there really going to be another Shadowwar, and if so, will we win it?"

     "I cannot answer any question about the future," answered the Oracle. "Not even the Gods Themselves know in detail what the future holds. You may ask another question."

     "All right," said Shaun. "What is the exact size and composition of the Shadowarmy?"

     "The Shadowarmy consists of nine hundred and twenty six thousand, one hundred and thirty five humans, five hundred and eighty four thousand, seven hundred and sixteen trogs, two hundred and eighty five thousand, seven hundred and fifty one shologs, two hundred and eighty three thousand and forty three buglins, one hundred and fifty two thousand, six hundred and sixteen goblins, sixty four thousand, two hundred and fifty nine ogres, forty two thousand and twelve hobgoblins, eleven thousand, two hundred and seventy five trolls, three hundred and twenty eight giants and sixty five dragons. Naturally, these numbers are constantly changing as more are born and recruited and others die or desert. On average, however, it is increasing at the rate of four hundred a day.

     "In addition, the Shadowarmy contains four million five hundred and thirty thousand four hundred and thirty four skeletons and zombies, ninety three wraiths, eighty one wights and thirty one ark raks. Plus, of course, the Shadowlord's deputy, who is in overall command. The Shadowlord himself, and others of the same nature as himself but weaker and subservient to him, cannot, as yet, enter this world in person and must instead simply channel through as much of their power as they can, through the portal created by his raks in the dead city of Arnor."

     The six travelers were stunned, and Diana's hand flew to the silver Caroli flower hanging around her neck. "But, but that comes to over two million living shads!" gasped Jerry breathlessly. "We had no idea, no idea at all..."

     "How large is Belthar's army?" asked Shaun, his face suddenly as white as a ghost.

     "I don't know," said Thomas. "About a quarter of a million, I think, and composed almost entirely of humans and trogs. No giants, dragons, raks..."

     "They'll just walk all over us," said Jerry, all hope gone from his voice. "We don't stand a chance."

     "Yes we do!" said Diana, fiercely. "We stand a very good chance if we can retrieve the Sceptre of Samnos. With its holy power, we will destroy the Shadowhosts once and for all. Nothing can stand against the power of the God of War."

     "There are two Gods of war, remember," said Jerry. "What if the other one is on their side?"

     Nobody cared to think about that possibility. Instead, Matthew said, "Who's this Shadowlord he mentioned?"

     "Why don't you ask him?" asked Shaun, indicating the Oracle who sat impassively, listening to their conversation.

     Matthew did. "O mighty Oracle, what kind of being is the Shadowlord?"

     "He is a Demon Prince from the Pit," replied the Oracle. "Once the soul of a mortal being, he was damned to the Pit for his sins where he grew in knowledge and power until he was able to bend other damned souls to his will. He has almost risen to the status of God. He will probably achieve God status in another few thousand years, unless another damned soul casts him down before then."

     "A Demon Prince!" gasped Lirenna. "What's its true name?" The true name of a demon, even a Demon Prince, was reputed to give those who knew it power over it, although none of them knew how to use that power. Perhaps the wizards at Lexandria or Pargonn would know, though.

     "Its true name is Taan-Emur," answered the Oracle. As it said the Demon's name a darkness seemed to come over the room, and the shaft of emerald light surrounding the Oracle appeared to dim a little. A chill came over them all, as though a cloud had covered the yellow sun. It lasted only a moment and then passed, making them all breathe a sigh of relief.

     "Taan-Emur, eh?" said Shaun. "Never heard of him." As he said the name, the darkness returned, stronger this time and accompanied by a feeling of malignant evil. It took longer to pass this time, and left them all feeling as though they'd just barely escaped from some terrible fate too horrible to contemplate.

     "It is not my place to comment," said the Oracle, "but I suggest that you utter that name as infrequently as possible. Every time its name is spoken the creature becomes aware of it, and it can observe the person who uttered it. The Demon Prince now knows about you. It knows where you are and it knows that you know its true name. It will undoubtedly send its minions after you."

     "Wonderful!" said Matthew, giving Lirenna a sharp look. "So just how screwed are we?"

     "Any minions it sends after us will probably have to come all the way from Arnor," said Thomas, though. "We'll be long gone from here by then, it'll have to search the whole continent for us. Just be careful not to say where the Sceptre is while we're here. That way, he won't know where we're going." The others nodded, all of them looking scared.

     "The Shadowlord is more commonly known as the Bone Prince, or the Prince of the Undead." said the Oracle. "You should use those terms to refer to him, in order not to attract his attention again."

     "Thanks," said Thomas. "We will. Right?" The others nodded.

     "Have you heard of him?" asked Shaun. "Did they teach you about demon princes at the University?"

     "Only the basics," the wizard replied. "They didn't go into detail, and they certainly didn't give us any of their names." In fact, there were very few people on Tharia who had heard of that awesome being, but one of those who had was the wizard Elmias Pastin, Lexandria University's director of extra-planar studies. He had stumbled across many worlds, in his own universe and others, that had been conquered by the armies of the Bone Prince. These worlds, once teeming with life, were now totally dead and inhabited only by the living dead who praised and worshipped the Shadowlord and obeyed his every command. If Elmias had known that Taan-Emur commanded the Shadowhosts, he would have packed his bags and fled the planet as soon as possible.

     They stood in brooding silence for a long time, digesting what they had learned. After a few minutes, Jerry decided that it had gone on long enough. "Mighty Oracle," he said, "Please tell me where I can find the Crown of Ranundulas."

     The others looked up in surprise. The Crown of Ranundulas? What was that?

     "The crown of Ranundulas," answered the Oracle, "is in the possession of Kryter of Darkwood, in the land of Sopharanna."

     "Jerry?" asked Lirenna curiously. "What is this? What is the Crown of Ranundulas?"

     "A powerful magical crown, created by our people and worn by our Kings for many centuries," said Jerry. "It was stolen during one of the goblin wars, two hundred years ago, since when it has passed through many hands and lost. If I could find it and return it to my people, I would be the greatest hero my people have ever had! I thought that, while I was here, I might as well ask. If I'm still alive when this Shadowwar business is over, I might go look for it."

     Diana nodded. "Fair enough," she said. "What about you, Tom? You're the only one who hasn't asked a question yet."

     Thomas thought about it. There were so many things he'd like to know that he didn't know where to start. On the other hand, if he wasted his one and only question on something trivial, he would hate himself for the rest of his life. Was there anything that he really, really wanted to know and that only the Oracle itself could tell him?

     Yes, he thought, there was. He walked up to within a few feet of the figure he saw. An old man so frail that it seemed the slightest breeze would blow him away but whose piercing blue eyes still shone with a sharp, penetrating intelligence. Those eyes puzzled him for a moment. Hadn't they been grey a moment before, like his own? He dismissed the thought with a feeling of annoyance directed at himself. He really had to learn to concentrate, not let his mind wander. "Tell me, great Oracle. What are you exactly? Where did you come from?"

     "I cannot answer that," replied the Oracle. "I cannot answer any question regarding myself. You may ask another question."

     Thomas suppressed a crushing feeling of disappointment. There was nothing like being told that he couldn't know to really make him want to know! He wanted to ask the question again, to beg it to answer, and if that failed he would devote his life to the question, visiting venerable sages and searching libraries and collections until he found the answer. Was the Oracle some ancient wizard, one of the immortal wizards perhaps, retired from the world and devoting his life to passing knowledge to the worthy? Or maybe it was a created being, the former servant of a wizard long abandoned to its own devices. Then again, it might be some kind of spirit, the emissary of a God perhaps, or an elemental force that had come to Tharia for reasons of its own. The not knowing tore at his soul, but he made himself put the question aside for the moment. He had to think of another question for the Oracle.

     After a few minutes of further thought, though, he shook his head. "No thanks," he said. "I think I'll save my question for some other time. You never know when I might really need to know the answer to something. Some kind of life or death situation."

     "A wise choice," said the Oracle. "And now that you are ready to leave, I must tell you that you may not reveal my location, or any detail of my defences, to any other person, living, dead, or undead. Only those who have proven their worthiness, as you have done, are permitted to stand before me, and part of the test of worthiness is to find their way here entirely unassisted. To assure this, I am placing hypnotic blocks in your minds. It will allow you to speak about me to each other, but not to any other person or when any other person is listening. You will understand that this is a mere precaution, and no reflection on your own characters."

     "Of course," said Diana, nodding. "We expected something like that. There's just one thing puzzling me, though. How is it that the Mad Woman of Andor and, I expect, a few other people, are allowed to tell people where you are?"

     She hadn't really expected an answer, since she had already asked her one and only question, but apparently the Oracle was feeling in an indulgent mood. "There must be some way for those in need of my words to find me, and so a few people are allowed to give my location, those who can only be reached and questioned after a perilous quest. Finding me must me a long and dangerous undertaking, but not impossible, else there would be no point to my existence. What use is a completely unlocateable Oracle?"

     "Yes, of course," said Diana. "I should have seen that myself." She glanced at the others. "Is that it then?" she asked. "Are we finished here?"

     "Unless Tom's thought of a question," said Matthew.

     "No," said the wizard, though. "I'm going to keep it, for now at least. Who knows what I might really, really need to know one day?"

     Diana nodded. "Then we're finished here." She turned back to the Oracle. "We'll be going now, then," she said. "Thank you for your help."

     The six travelers waved goodbye as they left, and the Oracle watched impassively, as it had watched countless others come and go in the centuries since its creation. Then it reached out a hand, the book reappeared in it, it opened it and began to read.