Niko heard Tempus remonstrate, "Let him be, Askelon!" and felt a sudden ennui,his eyelids closing, a drift toward sleep he fought-then heard the dream lordreply: "I will take this one as my hostage, and leave Jihan with you, a fairtrade. Then I will release these others, who remember nothing-for the interim.When I am done here, if you have behaved well, you may have them backpermanently, free and unencumbered. We will see how good your faith can be saidto be."

Niko realized he could still hear, still see, still move.

"Come here, Nikodemos," Tempus summoned him.

He obeyed. His commander's mien implored Niko to take all this in his stride, ashis voice sent him to see to breakfast for three. He was about to object thatonly by the accident of meditation had he been untouched by the spell-whichsought out waking minds and could not find his in his restplace, and thus thecook and all the menials must be spellbound, still-when men began to stir andfinish sentences begun before Askelon's arrival, and Tempus waved himimperatively on his way. He left on the double, ignoring the stares of thosejust coming out of limbo, whistling to cover the wheeze of his fear.

3

So it was that the Sacred Bander Nikodemos accompanied Askelon into Sanctuary onthe young Stepson's two best horses, his ears ringing with what he had heard andhis eyes aching from what he had seen and his heart clandestinely takingcautious beats in a constricted chest.

Over breakfast, Askelon had remarked to Tempus that it must be hell for one ofhis temperament to languish under curse and god. "I've gotten used to it."

"I could grant you mortality, so small a thing is still within my power.""I'll limp along as I am, thanks, Ash. If my curse denys me love, itgives me freedom."

"It would be good for you to have an ally."

"Not one who will unleash a killing mist merely to make anentrance," Tempus had rejoined, his fingers steepled before him."Sorcery is yet beneath your contempt? You are hardly nonaligned in theconflict brewing."

"I have my philosophy."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"A single axiom, these days, is sufficient to my needs."

"Which is?"

"Grab reality by the balls and squeeze.' "

"We will see how well it serves you, when you stand without your god.""Are you still afraid of me, Ash? I have never given you cause,never vied with you for your place."

"Whom do you think to impress, Riddler? The boy? Your potential, anddangerous proclivities, speak for themselves. I will grant no furtherconcessions...."

Riding with the dream lord into Sanctuary in broad daylight was a relief afterthe tension of his commander's dining table. Being dismissed by Askelon beforethe high-walled Mageguild on the Street of Arcana was a reprieve he had notdared to hope for, though the entelechy of the seventh sphere decreed thatNikodemos must return to the outer gates at sundown. He watched his best horsedisappear down that vine-hung way without even a twinge of regret. If he neversaw that particular horse and its rider again, it would be too soon.

And he had his orders, which, when he had received them, he had despaired ofsuccessfully carrying out. When Askelon had been absorbed in making hisfarewells to the woman whose fighting stature and muscle tone were soextraordinary, Tempus had bade Niko warn certain parties to spread the word thata curfew must be kept, and some others not to attend the Mage-guild's fete thisevening, and lastly find a way to go alone to the Vulgar Unicorn, tavern ofconsummate ill repute in this scabrous town, and perform a detailed series ofactions there.

Niko had never been to the Vulgar Unicorn, though he had been by it many timesduring his tours in the Maze. The east-side taverns like the Alekeep at thejuncture of Promise Park and Governor's Walk, and the Golden Oasis, outside theMaze, were more to his liking, and he stopped at both to fortify himself for asortie into Ilsig filth and Ilsig poverty. At the Alekeep, he managed to warnthe father of a girl he knew to keep his family home this evening lest thekilling mist diminish his house should it come again; at the Oasis, he found aHell-Hound and the Ilsig captain Walegrin gaming intently over a white-bladedknife (a fine prize if it were the "hard steel" the blond-braided captainclaimed it was, a metal only fabled to exist), and so had gotten his message offto both the palace and the garrison in good order.

Yet, in the Maze, it seemed that his luck deserted him as precipitately as hissense of direction had fled. It should be easy to find the Serpentine-just headsouth by southwest ... unless the entelechy Askelon had hexed him! He rodetight in his saddle under a soapy, scum-covered sky gone noncommittal, its sunnowhere to be seen, doubling back from Wide-way and the gutted wharfsidewarehouses where serendipity had taken his partner's life as suddenly as theircharred remains loomed before him out of a pearly fog so thick he could barelysee his horse's ears twitch. Rolling in off the water, it was rank and fetid andhis fingers slipped on his weeping reins. The chill it brought was numbing, andlest it penetrate to his very soul, he fled into a light meditation, clearinghis mind and letting his body roll with his mount's gait while its hoofbeats andhis own breathing grew loud and that mixed cadence lulled him.

In his expanded awareness, he could sense the folk behind their doors, justwisps of passion and subterfuge leaking out beyond the featureless mudbrickfacades from inner courts and wizened hearts. When glances rested on him, heknew it, feeling the tightening of focus and disturbance of auras like rousedbees or whispered insults. When his horse stopped with a disapproving snort atan intersection, he had been sensing a steady attention on him, a presencepacing him which knew him better than the occasional street-denizen who turnedwatchful at the sight of a mercenary riding through the Maze, or the whoreshalf-hidden in doorways with their predatory/cautious/disappointed pinwheelsof assessment and dismissal. Still thoroughly disoriented, he chose the leftwardfork at random, as much to see whether the familiar pattern stalking him wouldfollow along as in hopes that some landmark would pop out of the fog to guidehim-he did not know the Maze as well as he should, and his meditation-sensitizedperipheral perception could tell him only how close the nearest walls were and abit about who lurked behind them: he was no adept, only a western-trainedfighter. But, being one, he had shaken his fear and his foreboding, and waitedto see if Shadowspawn, called Hanse, would announce himself: should Niko hailthe thief prematurely, Hanse would almost certainly melt back into the alleys hecommanded rather than own that Niko had perceived himself shadowed-and leave himlost among the hovels and the damned.

He had learned patience waiting for gods to speak to him on wind-whippedprecipices while heaving tides licked about his toes in anticipation. After atime, he began to see canopied stalls and hear muted haggling, and dismounted tolead his horse among the splintered crates and rotten fruit at the bazaar'sedge.

"PsstJ Stealth!" Hanse called him by his war-name, and dropped, soundless as aphantom, from a shuttered balcony into his path. Startled, Niko's horsescrabbled backward, hind hooves kicking crates and stanchions over so that a rowensued with the stall's enraged proprietor. When that was done, the darkslumhawk still waited, eyes glittering with unsaid words sharper than any of thesecreted blades he wore, a triumphant smile fierce as his scarlet sash fading tohis more customary street-hauteur as he turned figs in his fingers, pronouncedthem unfit for human consumption, and eased Niko's way.