Petrov and his henchmen sensed the growing silence too. They broke their huddle, firewands snapping out to the ready. Over by the entrance, the real guards sucked in their breaths – they recognized the lethal potential of the situation. If they charged their way forward, hundreds of innocent people might die… and no matter how bull-headed the Harmonium can be, these two had their priorities straight. They froze, blades drawn, anger glittering in their eyes; for the moment, they would restrain themselves, rather than precipitate a bloodbath.

«Don't anyone move,» one of the real guards commanded. «Let's all be peery as angels.»

The closest henchman curled his lip and raised his wand; but I shouted, «Petrov!» and Bleach-Hair turned to face me.

His gaze swept across my face without recognition. Then he looked higher, to the canvas over my head, and his eyes narrowed. «What's that then?» he snapped.

«Look at it,» I replied. «It's your future. If you use those wands, if you keep working for Rivi, your future ends like this.»

He sneered, but his eyes remained on the picture. I continued forward to give him a better view. No one else moved in the whole rotunda; no one whispered, no one shuffled feet or tried to draw a weapon.

«You can see it's real,» I told Petrov. «This isn't just a figment of my imagination, this is something I saw. Look at it. You know what you're seeing.»

His expression scarcely changed – a small tightening of the lips, a tiny narrowing of the eyes – but I knew the very instant when the image blazed its way into his mind. He saw himself burning, he saw Rivi laughing… and he saw it was the truth.

Petrov let out his breath slowly. «Come on, bloods,» he said without looking at his henchmen, «let's hop it.»

«But we haven't —»

«I said, hop it.»

With deliberate slowness, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a golden amulet hanging around his neck. His gaze never left my sketch. He lifted the amulet to his lips and paused a moment: for the briefest of seconds, he lowered his eyes and nodded toward me. Then he kissed the amulet's golden face, and the three fireballers vanished in a shimmer of silver.

Inch by inch, the shimmer spread: enveloping the closest bystanders, still frozen in shock; sweeping across the two Harmonium guards, one gritting his teeth that the criminals had escaped, the other simply looking relieved. On and on the silver glimmer grew, dissolving the tapestries that covered every wall space, the cornugon, the deva… until the entire rotunda had vanished, the people, the stones, the curlicues. I was wrapped in a soft vibrancy of light, warm and approving.

Then, stepping through the shimmer came my father and Yasmin, walking arm-in-arm.

«So you found her,» I said to my father.

«She was looking for me,» he replied.

«One of the Shekinester's little tests,» Yasmin muttered. I waited for her to say more, but the clench of her jaw showed she had no intention of explaining.

My father had also noted the grimness of her expression. Patting her on the shoulder, he said, «That's all behind you now, girl. And I can tell you something to cheer you up.»

She slipped away from his arm. «What is it?»

«Britlin,» he turned to me, «Yasmin says you two… that you've been…»

«Incest,» I said. «Is that the word you're looking for?»

«That word must be on your minds,» he nodded, «but you can forget it.»

«I can't forget it,» Yasmin told him, a harsh edge to her voice. «I can't… not if Britlin's my brother.»

«But he isn't your brother.»

Her eyes narrowed. «You aren't my father, after all?»

«I may be your father, Yasmin, but I know I'm not his.»

He turned his finger to point to me.

«What are you talking about?» I demanded. «I know you're my father.»

«No, Britlin, I'm not.»

«You're lying,» I snapped.

«Britlin,» he said softly, «you know how your mother is. Do you really think she'd let me touch her? Ever? I didn't father you, boy. Of all the women who took me to their beds, your mother wasn't one of them.»

«Then who was my father?»

«Duke Urbin, of course – Anne's own father. She was pregnant by him when I found her. That was really the only reason he let me take her away: he wanted her out of Aquilune before his neighbors noticed her condition. They'd all know who had fathered the child, and there are some crimes even a duke can't get away with. He performed the wedding ceremony himself, then sent Anne and me back to Sigil where she'd be safely out of sight.»

My heart had seized in my chest. «And I was the…»

«You were the child, yes. Not the fruit of my loins, but I tried to be a father to you. At first, just for Anne's sake, but then for your own. I liked having a son, Britlin. Just as I like having a daughter.» He smiled at Yasmin. «But you two have no common blood. Nothing stands between you.»

I wanted to sit down; but there were no chairs, just the surrounding silver shimmer, as if we stood completely separate from the rest of the multiverse. With all the resentments I had felt toward my father… but he was not my father, he was just a professional hero, who had saved my mother as he would save anyone else in trouble. He married her because that was the way to save her, and he had supported me throughout childhood because that was the honorable thing to do. Could I resent him anymore? In a single revelation, he had released me from the burden of living up to him… not to mention freeing me to love Yasmin.

By all the gods, it was slickly done.

Yasmin stepped forward, her face beaming. She was reaching out to wrap her arms around my neck when I said, «No.»

«'No' what?» she asked.

«No to everything.» I pulled away from her. «This is all too piking convenient.»

«What are you talking about?» Her smile collapsed. «Why are you acting like a berk?»

«My father,» I said, gesturing toward him. "After twelve years, he just shows up here in the Court of Light. He has a plausible explanation for everything – why he never came back, how my mother would be happy that he consorted with other women – and he even tells us it's perfectly all right to be lovers if we want. Isn't that neat? Isn't that glib? One little secret clears away all the shadows.

«Well, I refuse to believe it,» I continued. «I would refuse to believe it if I heard it in Sigil, and I certainly refuse to believe it when it's delivered here in the Hall of Tests. Niles Cavendish is my father. I know that so deeply in my heart, all the waters of the River Styx couldn't wash the knowledge away. I've longed to be someone else's son, but I'm not – I don't have that choice. Neither does Shekinester.»

I waved my hands to dismiss the people in front of me. «Go back to the goddess now. Tell her I'm my father's son. I won't say I've made my peace with that, but it's time to stop denying the truth.»

Both the others opened their mouths as if they intended to argue; but no words came out. The expression on my face must have told them debate was futile. For a moment, the two exchanged glances… and then my father simply dissolved into copper-colored sparks that fell to the ground like rain.

«An illusion, of course,» I murmured. Turning to Yasmin, I said, «He was never here at all, was he?»

«He visited our court long ago,» came the answer. «He is elsewhere now.»

The voice was not Yasmin's – it was still female but deeper, impossibly golden. No human throat had ever spoken with such soft power. In the blink of an eye, Yasmin's body flared to a brilliant white, so dazzling I had to avert my eyes. The image thinned and lengthened, twisting and turning in spirals around me, until I was ringed by a snake of white fire, its tail stretching around and around in ever-widening circles. A fierce heat beat against my face; but I managed to stammer out, «Shekinester?»