The two men staggered as well; and suddenly Roger and his knife were apparently forgotten.

Turning back to the open window, they scrambled one at a time through it. Something tugged at Roger's ears as the second one disappeared, not a scream this time but something more felt than heard, like an ultrasonic dog whistle. The apartment floor seemed to tilt beneath him—

And as the half-heard cry trailed off into the night he heard something that froze his blood. It was a woman's voice, twisted with pain, shouting the name Melantha.

Caroline's voice.

Caroline had the taxi let them out two buildings over from the Youngs' apartment, in case someone questioned him about it later, walking the rest of the way after the vehicle disappeared around the corner. Her memory of the lock combinations proved to be correct, and a few minutes later they were in the apartment. Dropping the suitcase in one of the bedrooms, they made a quick run to a nearby grocery store for dinner supplies.

Through it all, Melantha said little, except in reply to direct questions. For her part, Caroline didn't feel much like talking, either.

It was after four by the time they returned. Melantha set her half of the groceries on the kitchen counter, then silently disappeared to somewhere else in the apartment. Caroline unloaded the bags, then began cutting slices from the turkey breast and leg of lamb she'd bought, her stomach growling as she worked. With everything that had happened that day, she and Melantha had missed lunch, and she was ravenous. Piling the slices onto a plate, she set it in the microwave to heat while she arranged the rest of the sandwich makings on the kitchen table with its wraparound bench seat.

When the meat was hot, she added it to the array and went in search of Melantha.

She found the girl sitting by the living room window, gazing out at the park across the street. "I've got sandwiches ready," Caroline announced.

"I'm not hungry," Melantha said, still staring out the window.

"You ought to eat something," Caroline advised. "You're a growing girl, you know."

Melantha reached up and touched her throat. "Not for much longer," she murmured.

"It'll be all right, Melantha," Caroline said, stepping up behind her and resting her hand on the girl's shoulder. "We're not going to let them hurt you."

Melantha made as if to say something, but merely shook her head. "Come on," Caroline said, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "I'm hungry, and I hate to eat alone."

Melantha heaved a sigh, but got to her feet. She gave the park one final look, then followed Caroline through the swinging door into the kitchen.

"I got the lamb especially for you," Caroline commented as she slid behind the table on the bench seat and gestured Melantha to join her. "Do you want some cheese with it?"

Melantha hesitated, but the aroma of the food was apparently too tempting even for her dark mood.

"Okay," she said, taking a seat on the bench across from Caroline and peeling two slices of bread from the end of the loaf.

"I didn't see any goat's cheese there," Caroline commented as she carved off a slice of cheddar.

"Where does your family buy it?"

"There's a place on West 204th," Melantha said, loading her bread with slices of the lamb. "A lot of our people live up there."

"Ah," Caroline said, trying to keep her voice casual. Our people. "Where exactly do you live?"

"Inwood Hill Park," the girl said, adding two slices of cheese to the stack. Her fingers paused. "I mean," she corrected herself carefully, "in Inwood, near Inwood Hill Park."

"Any brothers or sisters?" Caroline asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Melantha shook her head. "No."

"What about your parents?" Caroline asked. "What does your father do?"

"He's a Laborer," Melantha said. "My mother's a—" She broke off, giving Caroline a haunted look.

"I shouldn't be talking about this."

"It's all right," Caroline assured her. "Do you mostly get along with your family?"

Melantha's throat tightened again as she closed her eyes, and Caroline could see tears gathering beneath the eyelids. "I love them," she said, almost too quietly for Caroline to hear. "I can't let them die."

"You mean, along with the rest of the Greens and the Grays?"

Melantha's eyes snapped open. "What do you know about that?" she demanded.

"Just what you told me," Caroline said, startled by the reaction. "In Lee's, remember? What happened back there, anyway?"

Melantha hunched her shoulders. "It was Cyril," she said, her voice shaking. "He was calling to me."

"It was more than just calling, though, wasn't it?" Caroline asked. "He was trying to make you come to him."

She frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because he had a go at me, too," Caroline told her. "Though I think he assumed we were still in the apartment."

"He talked to you?" Melantha asked, surprise momentarily displacing the gloom in her face. "I didn't know he could do that."

"Well, someone was talking in my head," Caroline said. "Who is Cyril, anyway?"

Melantha's lip twitched. "He's one of our leaders," she said. "Not a real Leader, just a Persuader. We don't have any real Leaders right now."

"I see," Caroline said, keeping an encouraging expression on her face as she tried to sort all this out.

A Laborer she could understand, even with the capital letter she could somehow hear in the way Melantha said the word. But what kind of job was Persuader? "Why did he call you the Peace Child?"

Melantha lowered her eyes. "They say I can stop the fighting," she said softly. "Cyril and Halfdan say that if I..." She trailed off, a shiver running up through her.

"Is Halfdan another Persuader?"

Melantha shook her head. "He's a Gray. They don't have Persuaders."

"And how do he and Cyril think you can stop the fighting?"

There was no answer. "Melantha, what happened Wednesday night?" Caroline asked gently.

The girl closed her eyes again, her body suddenly heaving with silent sobs. "Did someone try to kill you?" Caroline persisted. "Someone who doesn't want the fighting to stop?"

Melantha shook her head, her silent shaking intensifying. "You don't understand," she managed between gasps. "It's all of them. All the Greens. All the Grays.

"They all want me dead."

They spent the next hour sitting together on the bench seat, Caroline holding Melantha tightly to her side, whispering soothing words as the girl cried with a depth of grief and agony that Caroline had never before seen in someone so young. Even when the tears finally ran out she continued to hold onto Caroline as if clinging to a life preserver, her face buried in her shoulder as she groaned and whimpered half-heard words in a language Caroline couldn't understand.

The eastern sky outside the kitchen window had grown dark by the time she finally fell silent.

Caroline gazed at the remains of their meal as they continued to hold onto each other, the barely nibbled sandwiches long since cooled, her own gnawing appetite long since evaporated.

Finally, Melantha pulled away. "I'm sorry," she said, sniffing against the aftermath of the tears.

"You don't need to apologize," Caroline assured her, snagging another napkin from the holder and handing it to her. "Anyway, it's better to get that kind of emotion out of your system."

Melantha blew her nose and added the napkin to the pile of tear-soaked ones that had already accumulated on the table. "Cyril's going to be mad at me."

"Cyril can go jump in the East River," Caroline said flatly. "You still hungry?"

Melantha looked at her sandwich. "Not really."

"Me, neither," Caroline said. "Let's put the food away and go unpack."

Melantha's eyes drifted to the window. "Could we go to the park instead?" she asked.