"Here," she said, when she had come panting up the stairs, when she had foundMor-am huddled still amid her bed, weeping into his thin, dirty hands. "Here-"She came and sat down and put her hand on his shoulders and gave the gold tohim. He wiped his eyes and snatched it so hard it hurt her hand; and got up andshambled out again.

He would not go to Ischade. He would go to the nearest dope-den; he would giveit all to some tavemkeeper who would give him krrf and whatever else the placeoffered to the limit of that gold; and maybe think to force food down him; thenthrow him out on the street when he had run through his account.

And when Ischade knew where he was-if Ischade got on his track and rememberedhim among her other, higher business-

Moria sank down on her soiled bed and hugged her arms about herself, the satinnot enough against the chill.

She saw the bureau surface. The ivory-and-silver knife was gone. He had stolenit.

The starlit face of Tasfalen's mansion was buff stone; was grillwork over thewindows, and a huge pair of bronze doors great as those which adorned many atemple. The detail of them was obscured in the dark and the windows wereshuttered and barred against the insanity of uptown.

But Haught had no trepidation. "Stay here," he told Stilcho, and Stilcho turneda worried one-eyed stare his way and wrapped his black cloak tighter about him,melting into the ornamental bushes with which (unwisely) Lord Tasfalen'sgardener decorated the street side.

Haught simply walked up to the door and took the pull-ring of the bell-chain,tugged it twice and waited, arms folded, face composed in that bland grace whichhe practiced so carefully. A dog barked in some echoing place far inside; washushed; there was some long delay and he rang again to confirm it for them-no,it was no drunken prankster.

And now inside there had to be a consultation with the major domo and perhapseven with the master himself, for it was not every door in Sanctuary that daredopen at night.

Eventually, in due course, there came a step to the door, an unbarring of thesmall barred peephole in the embrace of two bronze godlets. "Who is it?"

"A messenger." Haught put on his most cultivated voice. "My mistress sends toyour master with an invitation."

Silence from the other side. It was a message fraught with ambiguities thatmight well make a nobleman's nightwarder think twice about asking whatinvitation and what lady. The little door snapped shut and off went the porterto more consultation.

"What are they doing?" Stilcho asked-not a frequenter of uptown houses, or onewho had dealt with nobility in life or death. "Haught, if they-"

"Hush," said Haught, once and sharply, because more steps were coming back.

The peephole opened again. "It's an odd hour for invitations."

"My mistress prefers it."

A pause. "Is there a token?"

"My mistress' word is her token. She asks your master to attend tomorrow nightat eight, at a formal dinner in the former Peles house; dinner at sundown. TellLord Tasfalen that my lady will make herself known there. And he will want tosee her, by a token he will know." He reached up and handed a black feathertoward the entry, a flight-feather of one of Sanctuary's greater birds. "Tellhim wear this. Tell him my lady will be greatly pleased with him."

"Her name?"

"She is someone he will know. I will not compromise her. But this for taking mymessage-" He handed up a gold coin. "You see my lady is not ungenerous."

A profound pause. "I'll tell my lord in the morning."

"Tell him then. You needn't mention the gold, of course. Good rest to you,porter."

"Good night and good sleep, young sir."

Young sir. The peephole closed and a tight small smile came to the ex-slave'sface; a fox's smile. He stepped briskly off the porch with a light swirl of hisrusset cloak and a wink of his sword-hilt in the starlight.

"Gods," Stilcho said, "the ring- the ring, man-"

"Ah," Haught said, pressing a hand to his breast. "Damn. I forgot it." He lookedback at the door. "I can't call them back-that wouldn't impress them at all."

"Dammit, what are you up to?"

Haught turned and extended a forefinger, ran it gently up the seam of Stilcho'scloak, and dragged him a safe distance from the door. "You forget yourself, deadman. Do you need a lesson here and now? Cry put and I'll teach you something youhaven't felt yet."

"For the gods' sake-"

"You can be with me," Haught said, "or you can resign this business here andnow. Do you want to feel it, Stilcho? Do you want to know what dying can belike?"

Stilcho stepped away from him, his eye-patched face a stark pale mask underblack hood and black fall of hair. He shook his head. "No. I don't want toknow." There was a flash of panicked white in the living eye. "I don't want toknow what you're doing either."

Haught smiled, not the fox's smile now, but something darker as he closed thedistance between them a second time. He caught Stilcho's cloak between thumb andforefinger. "Do me a favor. Go to Moria's place. Tell her expect one more fordinner tomorrow; and wait for me there."

"She'll kill you."

Moria was not the She Stilcho meant. There was terror in the single eye.Stilcho's scarred mouth trembled.

"Kill you," Haught said. "That's what you're afraid of. But what's one more tripdown there, for you? Is hell that bad?"

"Gods, let me alone-"

"Maybe it is. You ought to know. Tell the Mistress, dead man, and you lose yourchance with me." Haught inhaled, one great lungful of Sanctuary's dust-riddenair. "There's power to be had. I can see it, I breathe it-you like what I cando, don't deny it."

"I-"

"Or do you want to run to Her, do you really want to run to Her tonight? Shetold us to leave Her alone-But you've dealt with Her when the killing-mood is onHer, you know what it's like. You heard the fires tonight; have you ever heardthem bum like that? She's taken Roxane, she's drunk on that power, the gates ofhell reel under her-do you want that to take you by the hand tonight and do youwant that to take you to Her bed and do what She's done before? You'll run tohell for refuge, man, you'll go out like a candle and you'll rot in hellwhatever there is left of you when She's done."

"No-"

"No, She wouldn't, or No, you won't go there, or Yes, you're going to do exactlywhat I asked you to do?"

"I'll take your message." Stilcho's voice came hoarse and whispered. And in arush: "If you get caught it's your doing, I won't know anything, I'll swear Ihad no part in it!"

"Of course. So would I." He tugged gently at Stilcho's cloak. "I don't askloyalty of you. I have ways to ensure it. Think about that, Stilcho. She's goingto kill you. Again. And again. How long will your sanity take it, Stilcho? Shutyour eyes. Shut them. And remember everything. And do it."

Stilcho made a strangled sound. Flinched from him.

Stilcho remembered. Haught took that for granted; and smiled in Stilcho'sdistraught face.

Before he swept the russet cloak back, set a fine hand on the elegant sword, andwalked on down the street like a lord of Sanctuary.

Straton stood still and blindfolded as the door closed behind, as the littlecharade played itself out. He heard the tread of men on board and the scrape ofa chair and smelled the remnant of dinner and onions in this small, musty room.

"Do I take this damn thing off?" he asked, after too much of this shifting abouthad gone on.

"He can take it off," a deep voice said. "Get him a chair."