"That's not the worst of it," Randal said. "Your apprentice just stole the globein all the confusion. I heard him coming and I couldn't get here in time. I dotrust it wasn't your idea." Ischade opened her mouth to say something. The airshuddered and Niko choked and moaned. Then she shut it and her jaw went hard,her fists clenched. "It wasn't," she said. And did not speak any curse, whichrestraint sent a chill down Molin's back and reminded him what she was. "Well,"she said, "now we know where Roxane's gone, don't we?"

"Don't hurt him," Moria said, "Haught, don't."

"Another of your lovers?" Haught asked, and prodded Straton's side with hisbooted toe.

"No. For Shalpa's sake-"

"Your old patron." Haught shifted the globe he held to the crook of his arm andtouched her under the chin. "Really, Moria, I make you a lady and look at you,you smell like a whore and you swear like a gutter-rat. Carry a knife in yourgarter, do you? No? Your brother stole it. What a life you lead."

"Stay out of my mind, dammit!"

"You're going to have to leam to control yourself, you know. Stilcho does. Hethinks about things when I ask him questions. He thinks about things other thanwhat I'm asking, he's gotten very good at it. Sometimes he remembers being dead.That's his greatest weapon. Sometimes I see other things in his head, like whatit feels like to have people flinch away from you- bothers you terribly, doesn'tit, Stilcho? You ran right out there to collect this bit of dogmeat just becauseMoria was going to do it, just because death doesn't mean a damn to you and youwanted to do something she wanted, you wanted her to look at you and not flinch,you want her, don't you, you sorry excuse for a living man?"

"Stop it," Moria cried.

"I just want the ones I love to know themselves the way I know them. Isn't thatfair? I think we ought all to know where we stand. You want to go to bed withhim? He's dying to."

"That's very funny," Stilcho said. "Excuse him, Moria, he's not himself."

She clenched her hands together to stop their shaking and clenched her jaw andstared up the bit she had to go to stare Haught in the eyes. "Well, dead, he'sstill got a heart in him. Where's yours? They beat it out of you?"

It scored. It scored all too well. For a moment she thought she would die forthat, and she ought to be scared; but she was what he had said, she was agutter-rat, and a rat was a coward until it got cornered, its back to two walls.Then it would fight anything. And these were her walls. This was her house. "Myhouse, damn you, and mind your manners, I don't care what you've brought in withthat damn jug. Get this man off my floor, put him to bed where he belongs, getthis other poor thing set down somewhere where he won't scare my servants, andlet me go up and take a bath, I've had enough of this goings-on."

"There's a love." Haught chucked her under the chin. She hit at his hand. "Goclean up. I'll take care of the rest."

She tightened her lips as if she would spit at him. It occurred to her.Childhood reflex. Then her eyes fixed on a move behind his shoulder. OnTasfalen, who had stood listless till then; now Tasfalen's head lifted and theeyes focused sharp; the chest gave with a wider breath and the whole bodystraightened. Damned trick of his, she thought, to scare me with it.

"Not a trick," Haught said, turning even while that cold touch ran over hermind. "We have a visitor. Hello, Roxane."

IV

Crit slid down from the saddle breathless and sweating, was on the marble stepsat the second stride, and took them two at a time. "Watch my horse," he yelledat men whose proper job at the doors was not hostelry, but one of them ran to dothat, and Crit kept going, inside the building in long strides-he wanted to run.Being what he was, where he was, he refused to show that much of his anguish tothe locals.

He grabbed a middle-aged man by the arm, a Beysib who turned and stared at himin that way a Beysib had to, with eyes that had no white and no way to turn intheir sockets. "Tempus," Crit spat. "Where?" His haste was such that he had notime to waste hunting; no time even to hunt an honest Rankan: he took the firstthing he could get.

"Torchholder's office," the Beysib lisped, and Crit let him go and strode on.

Broke finally into a jog, his steel-studded boots ringing down the marble halland echoing off the central vault. He saw the room, saw white-robed priestshanging about outside its open door, and came up on them in his haste.

"Wait," one said, but he shoved through and into the stench of burning and thetumble of chaos in the room.

Tempus was there. Ischade. Molin. And a couple of priests. Molin and the priestshe ignored; he ignored the stink of fire, the ashes, the strewn papers andtumbled books.

"They shot Strat," he said. "Riddler, your damned daughter's friends've shotStrat, they got him in Peres, someone in Peres pulled him in and we're trying topick the snipers off the street so we can get in there. They've got it ringed,only thing they can't hit is that damned horse, they got Dolon in the arm andEphis got two in the leg-"

"Damn, who?" Tempus grabbed him by the arm. "What in hell's happened?"

"The Front, the damned piffles! They made one try on him, this time they shothim. News is all over town, we got barricades going back up, we got everyprecinct flaring up, we haven't got the men to cover the whole damn city andfight a sniper action: they got that whole damn street and I had to come waywide and around to get in here."

"My house," Ischade said. "Strat's there?"

"The Peres house. They got him in. We don't know whether he's alive or not-"

"Gods blast it!" Tempus shouted. "What's your intelligence doing?"

Crit sucked in his breath. Walking rings around your daughter, was the thingthat leaped up behind his teeth, but he stopped it before it got out. "We fouledup," he said. That was all there was to say.

"Tempus." Molin thrust out a hand to stop him on his way out. "Niko. Niko's atrisk, you understand me."

"Haught's there," Ischade said. "So's Roxane by now. Right in the middle of it.And Roxane's got her ally poised here. In Niko. You need me for either and wecould lose it in either place. You choose. You're the strategists."

The witch stirred a step, looked down at her/his own body, and up again.Tasfalen's eyes burned with a preternatural clarity. "Give me that,"Tasfalen/Roxane said, taking a second step toward Haught; and Haught clutchedthe pottery globe the tighter and backed that step away while Moria shrank backagainst the outside of the bannister.

"Oh, no," said Haught. "Not so readily as that-compatriot. You may even beoutranked. Do you want to try me? Or do you want to take the gift I've alreadygiven you and be reasonable?"

The witch laid a hand on her own naked chest, ran it down to the belly. "Is thisyour sense of humor, man? I assure you I'm not amused."

"I worked with what I had at hand. If you've seen the staff in this house youknow I did quite well. This one-" Haught grasped Moria by the arm and draggedher behind him. "-is mine. The body is Tasfalen Lancothis. He's quite rich. Andwith your tastes I'm sure you'll find amusement one way or the other."

Tasfalen's eyes looked up from under the brows and all hell looked out.

"We'll do better," Haught said, "if we both live that long." He nodded towardthe street. "There's considerable disturbance out there. They're back at itagain. I found you, I offer you a body. I have the globe. For two wizards, thisis an opportune place and an opportune time: Ranke is dying in the streets outthere by what I gather. And here-" he moved his foot aside, against Straton'sleg. "Here's Tempus's own lieutenant. His chief interrogator. His gatherer ofsecrets. I think we have something to discuss with him, you and I. Don't we?"