«In Plague-Mort,» Miriam muttered, «the only last rites are cleaning out a deader's pockets.» But she didn't stop the Clueless boy from heading inside.

Hezekiah went through the door. If he'd had an open wound, he would have ended up back in the Abyss – the door was a portal, and blood was the key. However, the lucky sod had survived the last few days without so much as a paper cut, so he entered the house without incident. The rest of us went through a smashed-in window, stepping down on splinters of broken glass that crunched under the soles of our boots. Rats skittered away from the noise; in Plague-Mort, even the vermin watched their backs.

Hezekiah sped toward the back of the house while Kiripao bounded up the stairs to the top floor. Sighing, the rest of us split up to keep the two of them out of mischief… and I noticed that Yasmin waited for me to head after Hezekiah before she chose to follow Kiripao.

Anything to avoid me.

The house was dark, and we dared not light a lantern that might be seen from the street. Miriam and I stumbled through the front room waiting for our eyes to adjust to the dimness. All of the furniture had been demolished, as well as a collection of china that had once been displayed on plate-rails around the ceiling. The carpet smelled of urine; I supposed that had to be blamed on the soldiers, determined to bespoil every inch of the house… but I could not picture men doing such a thing.

Miriam noticed me sniffing at the odor. «Hounds,» she said in a low voice. «The Arch-Lector's troops call themselves the Hounds. Sometimes they go out of their way to act like dogs.»

«Charming,» I murmured. «If I head into town I'll carry a bucket of water, in case one goes for my leg.»

The back half of the house contained the kitchen and servants' quarters… although in Plague-Mort, those «servants» might actually be slaves. There was no way to determine their status looking at their rooms now – after the Hounds had smashed, slashed and thrown around slops, who could tell if these were the cozy quarters of valued retainers or the squalid pens of chattel? Whatever the servants might have been, they were gone now. In the darkness of the house, I couldn't tell if those smears on the kitchen wall were blood or perhaps just gravy; but there were no bodies here, living or dead.

«The smoke is coming from the basement,» Hezekiah whispered in a low voice. He had just opened a door at the rear of the kitchen, showing steps that descended into blackness. Dank air seeped up from below.

«Can you see down there?» I asked. As a half-elf, Hezekiah had better-than-human eyes when it came to poking around in the dark.

«There's a tiny bit of light,» he said, taking a few steps down. «Yes, over in the corner: the remains of a fire.»

I ventured warily down the stairs after him. In the blackness, I could just make out the dull glow of embers, maybe twenty paces away. The smell of smoke was strong down here, and suddenly that struck me as odd. The Hounds hadn't lit fires elsewhere in the house – they probably had orders from the Arch– Lector not to burn a valuable property (and half the neighborhood with it). Why had they chosen to torch a small corner of the cellar, and left the blaze untended? Were they afraid of something that had been here?

«Be careful,» I whispered to Hezekiah ahead of me. «Something isn't right.»

«There's nothing down here,» he replied, approaching the glowing coals. «I'd be able to see the body heat of any warm-blooded creature.»

«That still leaves cold-blooded…»

At that instant, a gigantic snake rose amidst the remains of the fire. Hundreds of silvery spines lined its back, each spine edged like a razor. The serpent lifted itself a full six feet into the air, hissing with rage… and in the dim light, I could have sworn its head was that of a human woman.

Hezekiah gave an incoherent yell, and suddenly disappeared: the Clueless little berk had teleported away, and this time he'd forgotten to take me. «Nice snakey,» I murmured in what I hoped was a soothing voice. «I'm not with those other guys. What did they do, set you on fire? They're scum, but I'm not like that.»

All through this speech, I was slowly moving my hand to the pommel of my sword; but I froze when the snake spoke in a gentle female voice. «Please help me, good sir,» she said. And then her upraised body toppled forward, slumping flat across the burning coals.

A moment later, Hezekiah reappeared behind me. «Sorry,» he whispered. «I jumped by reflex.» The boy glanced down at the snake lying across the embers and said, «Looks like you didn't need my help.»

«I need it now,» I told him. «We have to get her away from that fire.»

«Are you nuts?» Hezekiah asked. "Sorry… barmy?

«Just give me a hand, would you?»

Despite his misgivings, the boy followed me toward the snake. She seemed unconscious now… which might have been a blessing, given the burning coals under her torso. I stepped into the simmering ring, ignoring the smell of singed leather as my boots began to smoulder. Putting my hands under the snake was out of the question, because of the bed of embers; but I could squeeze the sides of her body enough to lift her off the ground, and then get an arm underneath for support.

She was about nine feet long and heavy – two hundred pounds of solid muscle – but between us, Hezekiah and I wrestled her away from the fire and up the darkened stairs. Scaly skin flaked off liberally in our hands. I hoped this was normal reptilian shedding, but feared it was actually burned tissue ripping away from her body.

Grunting and panting up the last few steps, Hezekiah gulped, «Uncle Toby… says snake-meat… tastes like chicken. Is that why we're… Britlin, look at its head!»

Enough starlight filtered through the dirty kitchen windows to show what had astonished the boy. The snake did have a human head: the face of a girl about twelve years old, soft and vulnerable, with delicate green skin and long hair of burnished gold. True, she had two sharp fangs protruding from her mouth; but they didn't negate the sweet gentleness of the rest of her features.

«What is she?» Hezekiah breathed.

«A naga,» I said, «one of the snake-people. I've met a few adults in Sigil, but never one this young. She's just past her first molt; while they're children, their heads don't look human at all.»

«What's she doing here?»

«I don't know. Perhaps she was a pet… or a slave. They're as smart as most humans, and have magic abilities. If you got hold of an infant and raised her as a member of the family, she could become a powerful asset.» I laid a hand on her cheek; the flesh was cold, but I could feel her breath on my fingers. «At least she's still alive.»

«But what do we do with her?» The question came from Miriam who stood in the kitchen doorway. I didn't know where she'd been for the past few minutes; possibly rummaging through other rooms in search of removable goods.

«We treat her kindly,» I replied. «Some naga breeds are innately malicious, but most are quite civilized.»

«She's still a snake,» Miriam grumbled, as if anything else was irrelevant.

«Who's a snake?» Yasmin asked, coming in with Wheezle in her arms.

«Her.» I pointed. Even in the dim light, I could see Yasmin's eyes grow bigger.

«She is a snake,» Yasmin admitted.

«And she's waking up,» Hezekiah said.

The naga's eyelids fluttered and a soft moan escaped her lips. Miriam tensed and Hezekiah backed away; but I stayed put, hoping she was too ladylike (and too weak) to use those wicked fangs.

«Who are you?» she whispered.

«Friends,» I told her. «My name is Britlin.»

«My egg name is Zeerith,» she replied. «I must choose a tooth name soon, but… I apologize. I'm so tired.»