Laquatus stood in the First's private chamber at the head of a small group of Cabalists and dignitaries. They had all been summoned in the wake of the raid, ostensibly to testify about their whereabouts and report what they had seen. The Mer ambassador recognized a simple call for scapegoats, however.

He was unconcerned for himself. His contact with Major Teroh had been completely innocent, or at least, absolutely secret. Even if the First knew he had been in contact with the Order, Laquatus felt secure. There was nothing in the content of his exchanges with Teroh that was incriminating. If Teroh read a hidden meaning into the ambassador's words, Laquatus could easily feign shock and could well afford to make restitution. Besides, he was certain the First understood the political necessity of keeping in touch with one's enemies as well as one's allies, especially in these troubled times.

The captain of the city watch standing next to him was not so confident. The man had the common, earthy stink of fear all over him, and with good reason. The city's defenses were virtually nonexistent during the opening minutes of the raid, and so far no one had come up with an explanation of how the Order was able to penetrate so far into the city so quickly. There were even rumors that the captain had betrayed the Cabal and given the Order free access to the heart of the city, but Laquatus knew for a fact they were false. He surreptitiously stepped further away from the captain, however, for his was the most likely head to fall.

Next to the captain stood Chainer, the young dementist who was going to provide a replacement for Turg. Chainer seemed calm, almost tranquil compared to the captain, but Laquatus was having a difficult time seeing into the boy's mind. Most of the individuals he encountered in person were as defenseless as if they had peepholes installed in their foreheads that Laquatus could peer into at any time. Chainer was more like Caster Fulla, however. Instead of a peephole, his mind was guarded by a tortured maze of mirrors. Every time Laquatus looked in, all he saw were distorted images of himself.

The boy Chainer kept glancing to his right at Louche, a sallow Cabalist who had just become the new Master of the Games. Louche's mind was more open than Chainer's and calmer than the captain's, but there was no useful information in it. It was full of facts and figures and deals and deadlines, all glued together with acrid contempt for almost all sentient being.

The First swept into the room with his attendants hovering all around him. The killers on the wall stood a little straighter as he passed them, and the entire entourage took up their positions at the far end of the room. The First's mind was even more closed to Laquatus than Chainer's.

"I will be brief," the First said. "I am conducting a basic inquiry into the recent visit we received from the crusat. Captain Fleer."

"Yes, Pater." Sweat fairly poured from Fleer's forehead.

"Explain the guards' poor performance."

"It was a well-organized attack," Fleer stammered. "They hit us on three sides simultaneously."

The First nodded to one of his hand attendants, who was busily transcribing the captain's words. "West, north, and south?"

"Yes, Pater."

"But not from the east. Not from the sea." He looked at Laqua-tus meaningfully, but the ambassador kept his face and his thoughts blank.

"No, Pater. There was no attack on the port or the docks."

"That you know of."

"Uh… no, Pater. Not that I know of."

"And yet, somehow an entire squadron of crusat fanatics was able to gain access to the arena."

"Yes, Pater."

"And storm the vault in an effort to seize the Mirari."

"Yes, Pater."

"And you have no idea how they were able to get to the arena so quickly?"

"No, Pater. We killed or wounded hundreds," he added desperately. "They took heavy casualties in their retreat."

"Because they took almost none in the attack. Be silent, Captain." The First turned his withering white gaze on Laquatus. "Ambassador," he said. "I trust you were not inconvenienced by the attack?"

"Not at all, O Patriarch. If not for the noise, I doubt I would have even known there was an attack."

"Outstanding. As you know, the comfort of our visitors is something we city dwellers pride ourselves on. We would never want to breach the sacred bond between host and guest."

"That bond is as strong as ever, my lord."

"You must understand, however, that these events will impact the plans we have already made."

"Of course, my lord." Laquatus swallowed his first taste of uncertainty. "I trust it will not impact them too… dramatically?"

"That remains to be seen." The First addressed Louche. "Master of the Games," he said, and Laquatus saw Chainer's mild surprise tinged with… disappointment? Laquatus wasn't sure, but clearly Chainer had not been aware of Louche's promotion.

"Pater."

"Your predecessor allowed the arena to be taken like some lonely mountain outpost. The pits are now in your hands. Will they be ready for the anniversary games?"

Louche's lips moved as he juggled figures in his head. "Three months from now, Pater?"

"Two months, three weeks," the First said.

Louche nodded. "No problem. The damage to the facilities was mostly cosmetic. The crowds will be down for the next few weeks because the spectators will be afraid of another raid. They'll forget, though. By the time the anniversary rolls around, everything will be back to normal."

"Outstanding. Be sure that all the shills and runners know the date. I want the arena full."

"Yes, Pater."

The First now turned his milky gaze on Chainer. He smiled warmly. "Master Chainer," he said.

"Pater." Chainer seemed completely at ease, almost disinterested.

"Once again, the Cabal owes you its thanks. It is impossible to tell how much damage the Order would have done-" he glared at Fleer- "if you hadn't arrived in time to stop them."

"I am your obedient child."

"That you are. But there should be more of a reward than my praise. Is there anything you desire? If it is within my power, it shall be yours."

"I require nothing, Pater," Chainer said. "Though my friend and partner Kamahl was gravely injured during the raid. He is not Cabal, yet he put his own body in harm's way on the Cabal's behalf."

"Then your friend and partner also has my thanks. His wounds are being seen to?"

"They are. But if it pleases you, Pater, I have chosen my reward."

"Name it."

"Give me the Mirari," Chainer said, and Laquatus fought the urge to cry out.

"Not to keep," the young dementist went on, "but to use on my friend."

"I was unaware that the Mirari had healing powers," the First said. Laquatus heard an element of suspicion in the Patriarch's voice, suspicion that Laquatus shared. How did the boy know something about the Mirari that neither Laquatus or the First knew?

"As far as I know, it doesn't. But the extent of my powers has yet to be defined. I would like to try to help my friend with the Mirari in my hands."

Laquatus could no longer contain himself. "No one yet has touched the Mirari and lived," he blurted.

Chainer smiled. "Except for me, Ambassador. And I only seek to borrow the Mirari, not to own it."

The First paused, obviously deep in thought. "It shall be done," he said. "Although I shall accompany you, to protect the Cabal's interests."

"Of course, Pater."

"I should very much like to see the Mirari in the hands of an expert," Laquatus said. "Twice now I have watched it destroy its temporary owners."

"Your presence is not necessary," Chainer said. Laquatus was preparing to argue when Chainer continued, addressing the First. "Although I would also like to employ the Mirari as an aid in fulfilling our bargain with the ambassador. I can provide him with a new familiar at any time, but with the Mirari in hand, I can exceed his expectations."