Priesthoods, Randal considered as he met Molin's stare, did a better job ofeducating their acolytes than the mageguilds did with their apprentices.Askelon, at his most magnificent, could breathe more life into the simplestphrases, making every word a threat and a promise and a truth. But Askelon washardly mortal anymore. Not that Molin Torchholder was exactly typicalofVashanka's priesthood. Randal had met Brachis, Molin's hierarchical superior,and been singularly unimpressed. The truth was that only Tempus, who brokemercenaries', mages', and priests' rules at his whim, could conceal more rawpower in his voice and gestures.

It was a realization to make a cautious mageling look in some other convenientdirection. "You might make a mistake one day, Torchholder," he said with aconfidence he did not feel.

"I will make many mistakes; I already have. Someday, I expect, I will make amistake I cannot survive-but I haven't yet."

Randal found himself staring at the unfinished portrait of Niko, Tempus, andRoxane that Molin had nailed to the wall behind his worktable. There wasconsiderable similarity between the witch and the priest even though she hadbeen portrayed transforming herself into her favored black eagle and Molin'sfacial bones showed some of the refinements ofRankan aristocratic patrimony. Itwasn't surprising: the priest had been born to a Nisi witch. He had, thus far,adhered to his promise to learn only enough to defend his soul from hisheritage, but if he ever wavered from that determination, now that thedestruction of Roxane's globe had every latent magician in Sanctuary on thethreshold of Hazard status, he would make the Wizardwall masters look likechildren.

Molin said, "Not if you help me," as if he'd read the younger man's thoughts."The price is too high."

The mongoose, who in the transfer from the forest to Sanctuary had experiencedbeing Randal as much as he had experienced being a mongoose, responded to herdesired mate's distress with an eruption of motion and noise that bounced thecage onto the floor. She set her teeth into the wooden slats and splintered twoof them before Randal reached her. Two were all she needed, however, to squeezeout of her confinement. She was on his shoulder in an instant, her claws findingpurchase in his brocaded cloak and her tail ringing his neck.

"I'm ... going ... to ... sneeze!" And he did-with an eruption that sent hisdefender, and a small portion of his left ear, flying across the room.

Molin dove toward the door to capture the lithe creature before it gainedfreedom in the endless corridors of the palace. Randal laughed through hissneezes; the sight was worth an earlobe. Nothing remained of Torchholder'sintensity or his dignity as he slid along the polished stone on his belly.

Despite these losses the priest kept his reputation: he did what had to be done.Blunt fingers pinched the animal's collarbone and a well-protected arm bothsupported her and pinned her against his ribcage.

"Chiringee?" Molin crooned, rubbing a free finger under her chin as he got tohis feet, his long robe wrinkled, twisted, and revealing the naked, muscularthighs of an experienced soldier and brawler. "So eager, are you?" He squaredhis shoulders, the weighted hem dropped, and he resumed his perfect lifelongdisguise as priest and court functionary. "Well, let us go to the nursery thenand let you meet the little ones you'll be guarding."

Randal followed, blotting his wounds with his sleeve.

The nursery was more a chaotic phenomenon of palace society than a physicallocation. Its denizens were moved from dungeons to rooftops, from the depths ofthe Beysib enclave to the warmth and abundance of the kitchens as the fears andinfluence of its overlords shifted. For three days a cavern-ceilinged hall knownas the Ilsig Bedchamber had managed to contain it to everyone's satisfaction.

Protocol demanded that no one pass the guards without careful inspection. Molin,Randal, and Chiringee waited until Jihan pushed her way through the doors. Sheaccepted the men in an eyeblink but stared hard at the mongoose, drawing on thearcane intuitions she possessed as Froth Daughter to archetypal Stormbringeronly temporarily in mortal form.

"So this is the unnatural creature who is supposed to protect the childrenbetter than I? It smells of Wizardwall magic."

"Well, she is larger and more intelligent than she should be. It was anunexpected benefit from the transition-"

Randal had more to say, but Molin took command again, leading their way into thenursery.

The hour candle beside Jihan's cross-legged stool was half-burnt-nearlymidnight. The chamber was silent except for the rapid, shallow breathing of theStormchildren who should have been in their hardwood beds but had been inJihan's arms and were now draped one over the other on the floor. She scoopedthem up before settling back on the stool.

"They should be in their beds," Randal complained. "How can you protect themwith them sleeping in your lap?"

"They were restless with fever."

"They're two steps from death, lady. They haven't moved in a week!"

"I will protect them as I see fit-and I don't need a little mage flaunting hisborrowed power and his menagerie...." Her eyes had begun to glow and the air inthe bedchamber had gone frosty.

Molin dropped the mongoose and placed his hands against both of them. "Jihan,Chiringee is only another precaution, like the guards outside, to assist you. Noone challenges what your father has ordained: you are the Caretaker."

Jihan's eyes cooled and the room began to warm.

In point of fact, Randal was not tremendously impressed by Jihan's caretaking.The woman, if she could be called that, was obsessed with maternal longings; shehad clutched the Stormchildren to her breast when Roxane's snake made its attackrather than drawing her sword and attacking like the hellcat fighter she was.Both children had been bitten and she had taken a divine battering, but theworst injuries had fallen on Niko when he had come to her rescue.

Jihan had recovered almost at once and Sanctuary was better off with Arton andGyskouras deep in envenomed slumber but Niko, despite Tempus's concern andJihan's healing, looked and felt worse than the White Foal undead. He was also,because of his need for Jihan's healing touch, a permanent resident of thenursery along with the Stonnchildren.

Randal didn't pretend to understand Niko's enthrallment with Roxane or his allconsuming interest in the Stonnchildren-he didn't even understand his ownaffection for the jinxed mercenary who had rejected his friendship more thanonce. He had touched Chiringee when they mingled in the transfer sphere,inoculating her with his love for Niko and an awareness of Roxane's essence (anessence which, albeit neutralized, pervaded his own Globe of Power whoseprevious owner had loved and used the beautiful witch countless times). Themongoose might not be able to slay the snakes but she would give Niko a fewmoments of warning and that, not the safety of the Stormchildren, was all thatmattered to Randal.

"We had a cage built for her but, with the influence of the transfer, it wasn'tenough to hold her," Molin was explaining to Jihan. "We'll have Arton's fathermake a stronger one in the morning. In the meantime I'll tell the guards to keepthe Beysib women out. She'd go after their vipers."

"Then don't build a cage," the Froth Daughter said with an icy laugh. "They needa few less snakes."