On the balance, then, the thoughts percolating through his mind were satisfying.The street powers-the Stepsons, Jubal, the 3rd Commando, and the garrison-werereining in their prejudices and rivalries without overt interference from thepalace. Sanctuary-flesh-and-blood Sanctuary-would be quiet when the imperialdelegation made its appearance. The disorganization of magic and the broodingsof Tempus Thales seemed soluble problems by comparison.

"My Lord Torchholder-there you are!"

Prince Kadakithis's relentlessly cheerful voice dragged the priest from hisreverie.

"You're a devilish hard man to find sometimes. Lord Torch-holder. No, don'tstand-I'll sit beside you."

"I was just enjoying the sunshine-and the quiet."

"I can imagine. That's why I followed you-to get you while you were alone. MyLord Torchholder-I'm confused."

Molin cast a final glance at the glimmering harbor and gave his whole attentionto the golden-haired aristocrat squatting in front of him. "I'm at your service,my prince."

"Is Roxane dead or alive?"

The young man wasn't asking easy questions today. "Neither. That is, we wouldknow if she were dead-a soul such as hers makes quite a splash when it surfacesin hell. And we would know if she were alive-in any ordinary sense. She has, ineffect, vanished which we think, on the whole, is more likely to mean that sheis alive, rather than dead, but safely hidden somewhere where even Jihan can'tfind her-though such a place is beyond all imagining. She might, I suppose, havebecome Niko herself-though Jihan assures us she would know if such a thing hadhappened."

"Ah," the prince said with an indecisive nod. "And the Stormchildren-nothingwill change with them one way or another until she's either fully dead oralive?"

"That's a rather inelegant way of summing up a week's worth of argument-but Ithink that you're fairly close to the heart of the matter."

"And we don't want our visitors from the capital to know about her or theStormchildren?"

"I think it would be safe to say that whatever chaos the witch could cause onher own it would be made immeasurably worse were it witnessed by someone, as yousay, 'from the capital'."

"And because we don't know where she is, or what she's going to do, or whenshe's going to do it; we're trying to guard against everything and starting todistrust each other. More than usual, that is-though not you and I, of course."

Molin smiled despite himself-beneath that affable dense-ness the princeconcealed a certain degree of intelligence, leadership, and common sense. "Ofcourse," he agreed.

"I think, then, we're making a mistake. I mean, we couldn't be making it easierfor her-assuming she actually is planning something."

"You would suggest we do something different?"

"No," the youth chuckled, "I don't make suggestions like that-but, if I were youI'd suggest that, rather than guarding against her, we put some sort ofirresistible temptation in front of her-an ambush."

"And what sort of temptation would / suggest?"

"The children."

. "No," the priest chided, only half in jest now; the prince's suggestion hadhim thinking of intriguing ways to deal with both Tempus and magic. "Jihanwouldn't stand for that."

"Oh." The prince sighed and got to his feet. "I hadn't thought about her. But itwas a good idea, wasn't it-as far as it went?"

Molin nodded generously. "A very good idea."

"You'll think about it then? Almost as if I had inspired you? My father saidonce that his job wasn't finding the solutions to all the Empire's problems butinspiring other men to find the solutions."Molin watched the prince make his way back to the stairway, greeting each groupof laborers. Kadakithis had been raised among the servants and was always moreconfident, and more popular, among them than his aristocratic relationssuspected. He might astound them all and become the leader Sanctuary, and theEmpire, needed.

The priest waited until the young man had reentered the palace before quietlymaking his way toward a different stairway and the Ilsig Bedchamber where hewould promote the prince's notions and his own inspirations to those most ableto implement them.

Jihan was bathing Gyskouras when the Beysib guard announced him. She handed theinert toddler to a nursemaid with evident reluctance and headed for the doorwith the long, rangy stride of a woman who had never worn anything moreconfining than a scale-armor tunic. Water was her element; she glowed where ithad splashed against her.

For a moment Molin forgot she was a Froth Daughter, remembering only that it hadbeen well over a month since his wife had left him and that he had always beenattracted to a more predatory sort of woman than was socially acceptable. Thenan involuntary shiver raced down his spine as Jihan passed judgment on him; theflash of desire vanished without a trace.

"I was expecting you," she said, stepping to the side of the doorway andallowing him into the nursery.

"I didn't know I was coming here myself until a few moments ago." He lifted herhand to his lips, as if she were any other Rankan noblewoman.

Jihan shrugged. "I can tell, that's all. The rabble," she gestured toward thedoorway and the city beyond it, "aren't really alive at all. But you, and theothers-you're alive enough to be interesting." She took the Stormchild,Gyskouras, from the Beysib woman's arms and went back to the obviouslypleasurable task of bathing him. "I like interesting..."

The Froth Daughter paused. Torchholder followed her stare to its target.Seylalha, the lithe temple-dancer and mother of the motionless toddler inJihan's arms, was doing a very attentive job of wiping the sweat from Niko'sstill-fevered forehead.

"Don't touch that bandage!"

Seylalha turned to meet Jihan's glower. Before becoming the mother of Vashanka'spresumed heir, the young woman had only known the stifling world of a slavedancer, trained and controlled by the bitter, mute women whom Vashanka hadrejected; she seldom needed words to express her feelings. She made a properlyhumble obeisance, cast a longing glance at the child, her own son, Gyskouras,cradled in Jihan's arms, and went back to stroking Niko's forehead. Jihan beganto tremble.

"You were saying?" Molin inquired, daring to interrupt the fuming creature whowas both primal deity and spoiled adolescent.

"Saying?" Jihan looked around, her eyes shimmering.

If Jihan had not had the power to freeze his soul to the bedchamber floor, Molinwould have laughed aloud. She couldn't bear to see something she wanted in thepossession of anyone else and she always wanted more than even a goddess couldcomfortably possess.

"I wanted your advice," he began, lying and flattering her. "I'm beginning tothink that we should seize the initiative with Roxane, or her ghost or whatevershe's become, before our visitors from Ranke arrive. Do you think that we couldbait a trap for her and-with your assistance, of course-catch her when she cameto investigate?"

"Not the children," she replied, clutching the dripping child to her breast.

"No, I think we could find something even more tempting: a Globe of Power-if itlooked sufficiently, but believably, unattended."

Jihan's grip on Gyskouras relaxed, a faint smile grew on her lips; clearly shewas tempted. "What do I do?" she asked, no longer thinking of children, or evenmen, but of the chance to do battle with Roxane again.

"At first, convince Tempus that it's a good idea to give the appearance of doingsomething very foolish with the Globe of Power. Suggest to him that he couldsolve the problems within the Stepsons by letting them prove to themselves andeveryone else that Roxane is dead and powerless."