«Yes,» Rivi laughed with Yasmin's mouth, «you must be torn, poor man. On one hand, I'm sure you could kill this lovely body without a speck of trouble. On the other, I've detected a wee fondness, shall we say, between you and this woman. Can you really kill her to get me? Especially when you have no idea whether killing her will hurt me at all.»

«If you've switched bodies with Yasmin —»

«But that's the question, isn't it?» Rivi interrupted. «Is Yasmin's wee soul safe and sound in my own body… a simple swap? Or is Yasmin still inside this body, but dominated by my vastly superior willpower?»

«In a contest of willpower between you and Yasmin,» I said, «I'd put my gold on Yasmin any day.»

«Loyalty!» she chuckled, clapping her hands with delight. «How quaint. And perhaps, darling, the contest between me and Yasmin might have been a wee bit fiercer another time, another place. However, for one enchanted second, your dear-heart completely let down her guard – no doubt staring into your strong manly eyes. She opened herself so wide… well, I just couldn't resist slithering in. And now that I'm inside, only another psionic could possibly throw me out again.»

She simpered, as if she expected praise for being so clever. I marveled at just how repugnant I could find the face that I loved; at how the same flesh and bone could be so transformed by the spirit within. Then again, a painter's eye is keenly attuned to such subtleties – a tiny stroke of the brush can change a portrait's features from stern composure to pompous buffoonery. I'd played such tricks many times on canvas; I just never expected to see the effect in real life.

«All right,» I said, «have fun in Yasmin's body. I'm going to find your real carcass.» Stepping around her, I strode off down the corridor, heading for the room where Wheezle and I had found Rivi's belongings on our first visit to the Spider. Perhaps Rivi's body wouldn't be there, but it was the natural place to start looking.

Rivi/Yasmin loosed an indignant squeal and scurried to follow on my heels. «You can't just ignore me!» she cried. «I'm in your lover's body!»

«So?»

«So you should… you should…» Her voice trailed off.

«I should moan and groan that Yasmin's possessed? Beg you to let her go? Pike that, Rivi,» I laughed, «the best way to handle brats is to ignore them.»

And I ran down the hall, leaving Rivi to fume.

Let me say for the record that I was not so blas as I wanted Rivi to believe – seeing the nasty wee albino inside Yasmin's body gave me cold chills. If Rivi wanted, she could use Yasmin's own sword to start carving up her body, flesh wounds just to horrify me or a good slash to the throat to end it all. One reason I ran was to get away before such ideas occurred to Rivi's foul mind; she wouldn't hurt Yasmin unless I was there to watch. Besides, Rivi might not be able to damage Yasmin without dislodging herself: the pain of injury might break Rivi's concentration, sending her back to her own body. I didn't know if psionics truly worked like that, but I prayed to The Lady it was so.

In less than a minute, I had reached the machine room where Wheezle and I found the clay tablets. Unlike the room where we'd fought the Fox, this place still had its engines intact: pistons clanging, steam hissing, belts slapping through pulleys and gears. In the corner of the main room, the walls of the control bunker had turned transparent… a disconcerting effect, even if I'd seen it before. Rivi's body lay comfortably on a cot inside the room, her eyes closed, her hands folded, her chest rising and falling with tranquil breaths. The grinders, white and brown, stood atop large glass jars beside the cot; dust trickled out of each grinder like sand through an hourglass, so that the jars were now half full.

This looks easy, I thought to myself: just walk in, put my rapier to Rivi's throat, and threaten to carve her like mutton unless she lets go of Yasmin's mind. But why waste breath on threats? Why not try a gash or two, non-lethal cuts to see if the pain made it impossible for Rivi to keep Yasmin under control? I strode toward the door, ready to wreak violence on the albino body…

…and the sodding door was locked.

The body on the cot stirred, opened her eyes, and smirked as she sat up. «Troubles, darling?»

«Just a minor setback,» I replied. «If I can't get in, you can't get out. How long does it take to die of thirst, Rivi?»

«More time than you've got, Britlin dear. I've given back Yasmin her precious wee mind… with one tiny alteration.»

I shuddered. «What did you do?»

«A simple illusion – when she sees you, she'll think she's looking at me.»

Behind my back, Yasmin roared, «Rivi, prepare to die!»

Yasmin had a longsword, I had a rapier. Her weapon gave her the edge in strength, mine the edge in speed. In terms of skill, I thought we might be evenly matched, but in terms of motivation… she burned with a killer's fury, while I was sick at heart.

Her first charge was pure rage, no feints, no tricks, no strategy – just a lightning lunge that would have gutted me if I hadn't knocked it aside and backed off fast. I would have gone for Rivi the same way: swift and lethal, trying to put her down before she could use her mental witchery. Yasmin followed up with more brute strength, slashes, thrusts, hammering at my guard, urgently pressing to end this quickly. I parried, dodged, blocked, and sideslipped, until I finally saw a momentary opening and drove a kick into her stomach. She staggered back a foot, then retreated further to a point where she could study me warily.

«You're better than I expected,» she said. «Maybe because you're using Britlin's sword. What did you do to him?»

«I am Britlin,» I replied. «Can't you tell?»

«Sorry, darling,» called Rivi, lounging on her cot, «she won't understand a word you're saying. All she hears is gibberish.»

I cursed and pointed toward the control room. If Yasmin couldn't understand what I said, at least she could follow my finger. «Look!» I told her, «there's the real Rivi!»

«Sorry again,» Rivi laughed, «but her wee brain can only see one of me. I'm afraid that one is you.»

«If you've hurt Britlin,» Yasmin stared venomously at me, «I'll run you through —»

She stabbed forward in the middle of her sentence: an old trick, aimed at skewering your opponent while he's waiting for you to finish the phrase. I parried, ducked under a moving machine-belt, and blocked another thrust mere inches from my groin.

The next two minutes were hell: Yasmin attacked me with everything she'd got, and I could only defend. Such a fight goes against all a swordsman's training – you always follow blocks with attacks, because more than half of defense is your opponent's fear of offense. If Yasmin ever realized I wouldn't strike back, she could take enormous advantage of the situation… throw caution to the winds, commit to extravagant all-or-nothing thrusts, leave herself wide open as she tried to take me down. I'm sure she considered such tactics after our first few exchanges, for she must have noticed I was reining myself in. Still, she may have thought my lack of aggression was a trick on Rivi's part, some ruse to lull her into a mistake; and to be honest, I couldn't completely restrict myself to defensive maneuvers. Sometimes, when I saw an opening, when her blade moved an instant too slowly or she had to duck a rocker arm that clicked past her head, my fencing reflexes took over and I attacked in spite of myself. Thank The Lady, I always stopped short of a death thrust… although most of the time, it was Yasmin who stopped the blow, not I.

Don't get the idea that we dueled for so long without landing any touches. Yasmin caught me a dozen times, and despite my intentions, I pinked her back just as often. Our salvation was the uncanny white cloth the nagas had produced for us: Yasmin's outfit shaped like her original dragonskin sheath, covering her body from toe to throat; and my outfit tailored into normal jacket, shirt and pants, but still protecting everything but my hands and head. The cloth had an uncanny ability to turn straight thrusts into glancing blows, to resist slashes and soften the force of even the most vicious chops. True, the clothes were not totally impervious to steel (as I found when Yasmin's blade tore a gash in my left forearm), but they saved me on several occasions when skill and guile could not.