"The vipers are sacred to the Beysib and to Mother Bey. You, most especially,should respect this," Molin said sternly as the temperature continued to drop.

"Mother Bey! Mother Bey, my hind foot. Do you know where she found her firstsnake? That's all she needs, you know, a silly blood-mouth World Serpent. Not myfather. No, she doesn't need him at all!"

When she wasn't doting on the children, Jihan fumed about her father'sprogressive entanglement with the fish-folk's goddess, Mother Bey. Jihan, whohad never had a rival for her father's affection, was developing a dangerousresentment for all things Beysib.

Gods were the priests' problems. Randal had heard the adolescent protests beforeand was openly relieved to leave them to Molin. He found a fist-sized watch-lampbeside the glowing brazier, lit it, and headed toward the curtained alcove whereNiko convalesced. Tempus had forbidden the direct application of magic on hispartner's wounds so Jihan worked her healing through vile unguents; the taint ofrotting offal drew Randal to the alcove more surely than the flickeringlamplight. He swallowed his sneezes as he drew the curtain aside and stood atNiko's feet.

The mercenary thrashed on his pallet in the grip of nightmares or pain.

"Leave me be!" he gasped-and Randal pressed his back against the wall of thealcove.

Chiringee had followed the magician. She stalked across the damp, discardedlinens, easily eluding Randal's cautious attempts to restrain her. Her teethglistened and her tail quivered as it only did when she was closing on her prey.Randal set the lamp carefully on the footboard and moved closer.

"Leave me!" Niko murmured again before his words became incoherent moans and hisbody stiffened into an arch above the pallet.

Randal froze, horrified not merely because the creature he had enchanted toprotect Niko was going to rip through the soft flesh of that Stepson's neck butbecause he knew, despite his chastity, that Niko was a victim of neithernightmares nor pain. The injured mercenary collapsed flaccidly on the linens;Chiringee's jaws clicked shut harmlessly and Randal watched as Niko's lips movedsilently around the word he most feared: "Roxane..."

The mongoose reared up and began a keening that drew Molin and Jihan to thealcove.

"He's had a relapse," Randal said, a tremor in his voice. "I'll go tell Tempus."He ran from the alcove and the nursery hoping he could reach privacy before thedeceit and sick fear that had taken root in his bowels overcame him.

"I can see that," Jihan said coldly as she stared first at Molin, then at herpatient. She drew the linens up to cover him. "Go now, I'll take care of himalone."

Molin was alone in his sanctum when Illyra arrived at the palace to deliverChiringee's new cage. She had been instructed to take it directly to thenursery, but she was the natural mother of one of Sanctuary's Stormchildren andwhen she insisted that she would see Vashanka's priest first no one argued withher. She dumped the iron-wire contraption on the floor and ordered Molin'sscrivener, Hoxa, from the room.

"Is something wrong, Illyra? I assure you: Alton receives the same care asGyskouras." Molin stood up from her table and gestured to take her heavy cloak.

"I have Seen things." She kept the cloak tight at her neck though braziers andwindows made the sanctum one of the more comfortable private rooms in thepalace. "Torchholder- it's getting worse, not better."

"Sit down, then, and tell me what you've Seen," He dragged his own chair aroundto the front of the worktable for her. "Hoxa! Get some mulled cyder for thelady!" Propping himself against the table, he addressed her with calculatedfamiliarity. "Since the... accident?"

"That night."

"You said you Saw nothing," he chided her.

"Not about Arton or the other boy; not something I even noticed or understood atthe time. But the others have felt it too." She pulled the cloak close aroundher; Molin understood that once again Illyra was violating some S'danzo taboowith her revelations. "There are stones-spirit stones-from the times before menneeded gods. When they were lost that was when the S'danzo were born and whenmen began to create gods from their hopes and needs....

"If men possessed these stones again there would be no need for gods."

She paused when Hoxa came into the room with two goblets.

"Thank you, Hoxa. I won't be needing you again tonight. Take the rest of thecyder and have a pleasant evening." Molin handed Illyra the goblet himself. "Youthink that with these stones we could free your son and Gyskouras?" he suggestedwhen it seemed she would say no more but only stare at the twisting plumes ofsteam.

Illyra shook her head. Tears or the fragrant vapor of the cyder had smeared thekohl under her eyes. "It's been too long. One of the lost stones was invoked anddestroyed that night- some of its magic was directed against the children, somewent into a woman who came to me with death in her eyes, some of it is stillfalling to the ground like rain, but all of it was evil, Torchholder. It hadbeen damaged when the demons hid it in the fires of creation. Our legends haveplayed us false. Men can no longer live without gods.

"The other women have felt the falling but I've felt something else in theshadows. Torchholder-there's another stone in Sanctuary and it is worse than thefirst one."

Molin took the goblet from her trembling fingers and held her hands between hisown. "What you call spirit stones are, in fact, the Nisibisi Globes of Power,the talismans of their witches and wizards. The one that was destroyed was thesource of most, if not all, of the witch Roxane's power. She was evil, it istrue, and the demons will have their sport with her, I'm sure. But the globesthemselves are only pottery artifacts. The S'danzo needn't worry about thesecond one, whatever its previous owners might have been." He stopped short oftelling her that Randal's globe still rested, enveloped by nothingness, on thetable behind him.

Illyra shook her head until her hood fell back and her dark, curling hair fellfreely around her shoulders. "It is a spirit stone and the demons have tamperedwith it," she insisted. "It is not safe for men to possess it."

"It could be destroyed, like the other one."

"No." She shrank back as if he had struck her. "Not destroyed-Sanctuary, theworld, wouldn't survive. Send it back to the fires of creation-or to the bottomof the sea."

"It is safe, Illyra. It will hurt no one and no one will hurt it."

She stared distractedly at the table; Molin wondered what her S'danzo sightcould actually reveal. "Its evil cries out in the night, Torchholder, and no oneis immune." She lifted her hood and moved toward the door. "No one," shereminded him as she left.

The priest finished his cyder, then opened the parchment window. Time alwayspassed strangely when he was with Illyra-it had seemed no later than earlyafternoon when she arrived, but now the sun had set and a fog bank was movingacross the harbor to the town. He should have arranged an escort for her back tothe Bazaar. Despite her prejudices Illyra was one of his most prized informants.

"Isn't it rather early to be sending them home. Torch?" a familiar voiceinquired from behind.

Molin turned as Tempus settled himself into the chair which creaked and wasdwarfed by his size.

"She is the mother of the other child. Sometimes she brings me information. Idon't mix business with pleasure, Riddler."

They used mercenaries' names when they met; their personalities always createdthe aura of a battlefield between them.