“No, that’s okay,” said Miriam. “Uh, can you ask if she’s willing to see my friend here? Brill?”

“That’s me,” said Brill, miscueing off Miriam’s request.

“Oh, well—you’re on the clear list.” The nurse shrugged. “It’s just that somebody shot her.” She frowned. “She’s under guard. Spooks, if you follow my drift.”

Miriam gave her a sympathetic smile. “I follow. They know us both.”

“That way.” The nurse pointed. “Second door on the right. Knock before you open it.”

Miriam knocked. The door opened immediately. A very big guy in dark clothes and dark glasses filled it. “Yes?” he demanded, in a vaguely central-European accent.

“Miriam Beckstein and Brill van Ost to see Olga. We’re expected.”

“One moment.” The door closed, then opened again, this time unobstructed. “She says to come in.”

It was a small anteroom and there were not one but three heavies in suspiciously bulky jackets and serious expressions hanging around. One of them was sitting down reading a copy of Guns and Ammo, but the other two were on their feet and they studied Miriam carefully before they opened the inner door. “Olga!” cried Brill, rushing in. “What have they done to you?”

“Careful,” warned Miriam, following her.

“Hello,” said Olga. She smiled slightly and shifted in the bed.

“Excuse me,” the young nurse said waspishly. “I’ll just be finishing here before you disturb her, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh,” said Brill.

“I don’t mind,” said Miriam, staring at Olga. “How are you?” she asked anxiously.

“Bad.” Olga’s smile warmed slightly. “Tired’n’bruised. But alive.” Her eyes tracked toward the nurse, who was fiddling with the drip mounted on the side of the bed, and Miriam nodded minutely. The back of her bed was raised and there was a huge dressing over her right shoulder. Alarming-looking drain tubes emerged from it, and a bunch of wires from under the neck of her hospital gown fed into some kind of mobile monitor on a trolley. It chirped occasionally. “Damn.” Half of her hair was missing, and there was another big dressing covering one side of her head, but no drain tubes—which, Miriam supposed, was a good sign. “This feels most strange.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Miriam said with some feeling. Wow, she thought, thinking about Brill’s first reaction to New York, she’s handling it well. “Did they find whoever did it?”

“I’m told not.” Olga glanced at the nurse again, who glanced back sternly and straightened up.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” she announced brightly. “Remember, no food or drink! And don’t tire her out. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; if you need me before then, use the buzzer.”

Miriam, Brill, and Olga watched her departure with relief. “Strange fashions here,” Olga murmured. “Strange buildings. Strange everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Miriam glanced at the drip, the monitoring gear, everything else. Cable TV, a private bathroom, and a vase with flowers in it. Compared to the care Olga would receive in the drafty palace on the other side, this was the very lap of luxury. “What happened?”

“Ack.” Olga coughed. “I was in your, your room. Asleep. He appeared out of nowhere and shot … well.” She shifted slightly. “Why doesn’t it hurt more?” she asked, sounding puzzled. “He shot at me, but I am a light sleeper. I was already sitting up. And I sleep with my pistol under my pillow.” Her smile widened.

Miriam shook her head. “Did he get away?” she asked. “If not, did you get his locket?”

“I wondered when you would ask.” Olga closed her eyes. “Managed to grab it before they found me. It’s in the drawer there.”

She didn’t point at the small chest of drawers, but Miriam figured it out. Before she could blink, Brill had the top drawer open and lifted out a chain with a disk hanging from it. “Give me,” said Miriam.

“Yeah?” Brill raised an eyebrow, but passed it to her all the same.

“Hmm.” Miriam glanced at it, felt a familiar warning dizziness, and glanced away. Then she pulled back a cuff and looked at the inside of her right wrist. The same. “Same as the bastard who killed Margit. Exactly the same. While the other bunch of heavies who tried to roll us over at the same time didn’t have any lockets. At all.”

“Thought so,” murmured Olga.

“Listen, they’re after us both,” said Miriam. “Olga?”

“I’m listening,” she said sleepily. “Don’t worry.”

“They’re after us both,” Miriam insisted. “Olga, this is very important. You’re probably going to be stuck here for two or three days, minimum, and it’ll take weeks before you’re well—but as soon as you’re well enough to move, Angbard will want to take you back to his fortress on the other side. It is really important that you don’t go there. I mean, it’s vital. The killers can reach you on the other side, in Fort Lofstrom, even in a doppelgängered room. But they can’t reach you here. Listen, I’ve got a friend here working for me. And Brill’s here, too. You can stay with us, if you like. Or talk to Roland, get Roland to help. I’m pretty sure he’s reliable—for you, at least. If you stay in Angbard’s doppelgängered rooms on this side, the ones he uses to stop family members getting at him in the fort, you’ll be safe from the lost family in world three, and from the other conspirators, but not from the mole. And if you go back to Niejwein, the conspirators will try to kill you.”

“Wait!” Olga struggled visibly to absorb everything. “Lost family? World three? What’s—”

“The assassin who killed Margit.” Miriam tensed. “It’s a long story. I think they’re after you, now, because of me.”

Olga shook her head. “But why? I mean, what purpose could that serve?”

“Because it’ll discredit me, or it’ll restart the civil war, and I’m fairly certain that’s what the bunch from world three, the long-lost relatives, want to achieve. If I die and it can be blamed on one half of the Clan, that starts it up again. If you die and it looks like I’ve schemed with Roland to get you out of the way so I can marry him, it starts up for a different reason. Do you see?”

“Vaguely.” Olga opened her eyes and looked at Miriam. “You’ll have to explain it again later. Do you think they’ll let me stay here?”

“Hmm.” Miriam thought for a moment. “You can stay here to recover. I don’t think even Angbard is stupid enough to move you while you’re ill. You can lean on him to let you stay a bit longer to see what it’s like, too. That might work. If he’s got any sense he’ll work it out from what I told him. But he isn’t safe, Olga.”

Brill turned around. “They abducted—or killed—Miriam’s foster-mother, milady. Yesterday, at the same time they shot you.”

“Oh!” Olga looked pensive. “So. What would you suggest?”

“I think you should stay here for now. When you’re better, I want to—” Miriam caught Brill’s eye—”introduce you to a friend of mine called Paulette. And then we’ll see.” She licked her lips. “I’ve got a business proposition in mind. One that will flush out the bastards who want us both dead, and make everybody involved wealthy beyond belief.” She grinned at Olga. “Interested?”