But no stranger this time. He peered around the corner and saw Lastel himself,waiting with sword out.

'Don't hold back there,' his alter ego said. 'Only one of us leaves thistunnel.'

One-Thumb raised his rapier slowly. 'Wait ... if you kill me, you die forever.If I kill you, the same. This is a sorcerer's trap.'

'No, Mizraith's dead.'

'His son is holding the spell.'

Lastel advanced, crabwise, dueller's gait. 'Then how am I here?'

One-Thumb struggled with his limited knowledge of the logic of sorcery. Instinctmoved him forward, point in line, left-hand weapon ready for side parry or highblock. He kept his eye on Lastel's point, krrf-steady as his own. The krrf sangdoom, and lifted his spirit.

It was like fencing with a mirror. Every attack drew instant parry, remise,parry, remise, parry, re-remise, break to counter. For several minutes, a swiftyet careful ballet, large twins mincing, the tunnel echoing clash: One-Thumbknew he had to do something random, unpredictable; he lunged with a cut-over,impressing to the right.

Lastel knew he had to do something random, unpredictable; he lunged with adouble-disengage, impressing to the right

They missed each other's blades

Slammed home.

One-Thumb saw his red blade emerge from the rich brocade over Lastel's back,tried to shout and coughed blood over his killer's shoulder. Lastel's rapier hadcracked breastbone and heart and slit a lung as well.

They clung to each other. One-Thumb watched bright blood spurt from the other'sback and heard his own blood falling, as the pain grew. The dagger still in hisleft hand, he stabbed, almost idly. Again he stabbed. It seemed to take a longtime. The pain grew. The other man was doing the same. A third stab, he watchedthe blade rise and slowly fall, and inching slide back out of the flesh. Withevery second, the pain seemed to double; with every second, the flow of timeslowed by half. Even the splash of blood was slowed, like a viscous oil fallingthrough water as it sprayed away. And now it stopped completely, a thick scarletweb frozen there between his dagger and Lastel's back - his own back - and asthe pain spread and grew, marrow itself on fire, he knew he would look at thatfor ever. For a flickering moment he saw the. image of two sorcerers, smiling.

'I feel as young as I look. I could satisfy every man in this house if I tookthe notion to, or if any one of them had half the magnificence of Lythande.'

So speaking, Myrtis, proprietor of the Aphrodisia House leaned over the banisteroutside her private parlour and cast judgement on the activity of herestablishment below.

'Certainly, madame.'

Her companion on the narrow balcony was a well-dressed young man lately arrivedwith his parents from the imperial capital. He eased as far from her as possiblewhen she turned to smile at him.

'Do you doubt me, young man?'

The words rolled off Myrtis's tongue with an ease and inflection of majesty. Tomany of the long-time residents of Sanctuary, Myrtis was the city's unofficialroyalty. On the Street of Red Lanterns she reigned supreme.

'Certainly not, madame.'

'You have seen the girls now. Did you have a particular lady in mind, or wouldyou prefer to explore my establishment further?'

Myrtis guided him back into her parlour with slight pressure against his arm.She wore a high-necked dark gown which only hinted at the legendary figurebeneath. The madam of the Aphrodisia House was beautiful, more beautiful thanany of the -girls working for her; fathers told this to their sons who were, inturn, passing this indisputable fact along to their sons. But a ravishing beautywhich endured unchanging for three generations was awesome rather thandesirable. Myrtis did not compete with the girls who worked for her.

The young man cleared his throat. It was clearly his first visit to any brothel.He fingered the tassels on the side of an immense wine-coloured velvet love-seatbefore speaking.

'I think I'll go a round with the violet-silks.'

Myrtis stared at him until he fidgeted one of the tassels loose and his faceflushed a deep crimson.

'Call Cylene. Tell her the Lavender Room.'

A girl too young to be working jumped up from a cushion where she had waited insilence for such a command. The youth turned to follow her.

'Four pieces of silver - Cylene is very talented. And a name - I think that youshould be known as Terapis.' Myrtis smiled to reveal her even white teeth.

The youth, who would henceforth be known as Terapis within the walls of theAphrodisia House, searched his purse to find a single gold piece. He stoodarrogant and obviously well-rehearsed while Myrtis counted out his change. Theyoung girl took his hand to lead him to Cylene for two hours of unimaginablebliss.

'Children!' Myrtis mumbled to herself when she was alone in her parlour again.

Four of the nine knobs on the night-candle had melted away. She opened a greatleatherbound ledger and entered the youth's true name as well as the one she hadjust given him, his choice for the evening, and that he had paid in gold. It hadbeen fifteen years or more since she had given the nom-de-guerre of Terapis toone of the house's gentlemen. She had a good memory for all those who lingeredin the sybaritic luxury of the Aphrodisia House.

A gentle knocking on the parlour door awoke Myrtis late the next morning.

'Your breakfast is ready, madame.'

'Thank you, child. I'll be down for it.'

She lay still for a few moments in the semi-darkness. Lythande had used carefulspells to preserve her beauty and give her the longevity of a magician, butthere were no spells to numb the memory. The girls, their gentlemen, all passedthrough Myrtis's mind in a blurred unchanging parade which trapped her beneaththe silken bed-clothes.

'Flowers for you, madame.'

The young girl who had sat quietly on the cushion on the previous evening walkednonchalantly into the boudoir bearing a large bouquet of white flowers which shebegan arranging in a crystal vase.

'A slave from the palace brought them. He said they were from Terapis.'

A surprise. There were always still surprises, and renewed by that comfortingknowledge Myrtis threw back the bedcovers. The girl set down the flowers andheld an embroidered day-robe of emerald satin for Myrtis to wrap around herself.

Five girls in their linen shifts busied themselves with restoring the studieddisorder of the lower rooms as Myrtis passed through them on her way to thekitchen. Five cleaning, one too pregnant to be of any use, another off nursing anewborn; that meant twenty girls were still in the upper rooms. Twenty girlswhose time was fully accounted for; in all, a very good night for the AphrodisiaHouse. Others might be suffering with the new regime, but the foreignersexpected a certain style and discretion which in Sanctuary could be found onlyat the Aphrodisia.

'Madame, Dindan ordered five bottles of our best Aurvesh wine last night. Wehave only a dozen bottles left ...' A balding man stepped in front of her with ashopping list.

'Then buy more.'

'But, madame, since the prince arrived it is almost impossible to buy Aurveshwines!'

'Buy them! But first sell the old bottles to Dindan at the new prices.'

'Yes, madame.'

The kitchen was a large, brightly lit room hidden away at the back of the house.Her cooks and an assortment of tradesmen haggled loudly at the back door whilethe half-dozen or so young children of her working girls raced around themassive centre table. Everyone grew quiet as Myrtis took her seat in a sunlitalcove that faced a tiny garden.