"Not here," Chandris said, shaking her head. "It's not safe. The angel is very small, and if we're not careful we could lose it."

For a long moment Trilling was silent. Kosta watched Chandris's eyes, wondering if there would even be enough time for her to warn him with her reaction when Trilling pulled the knife back to stab him. "Fine," Trilling said at last. "What about a storeroom? You got a storeroom or something here?"

Chandris's eyes flicked to Kosta, and he felt his throat tighten in reaction. That was where Trilling planned to do it. Somewhere a little less obvious than Chandris's cabin, someplace where it would presumably take longer for someone to stumble over a dead body.

For a moment he considered turning and having it out right here. But Trilling's knife blade wasn't pressed against his back at the moment, which meant he didn't know exactly where it was. For a faster, better trained martial artist that might not have been a problem. For Kosta, it was the difference between death and even a chance at life.

He would have to wait, and hope that a better opportunity presented itself.

They had made their way to the narrow stairway and were nearly down to the lower deck when they heard the soft singing.

"Hold it," Trilling hissed, wrapping a hand around Kosta's throat and freezing them both in place.

"Who's that?"

"It's Ornina Daviee," Chandris whispered, half turning, a sudden new tension in her face. Clearly, she hadn't expected Ornina to be down here. "This is her ship."

Reluctantly, Kosta thought, Trilling let go of his throat. "Okay," he said, the knife pressure leaving Kosta's back again. "Let's go. Real careful, now."

Hunching her shoulders once, Chandris started forward again. With Trilling's breath hot on the back of his neck, Kosta followed.

Ornina was kneeling beside the angel collector bin when they entered the storeroom, a set of delicate adjustment tools laid out on the floor beside her. "Hello, Chandris," she said as they came in. "And Jereko. Oh—and who's your friend?"

"He's not exactly a friend," Kosta said, watching her face as Trilling moved a little to the side and the knife in his hand came into Ornina's view. The older woman's eyes flicked to the weapon but otherwise her expression didn't change. "His name's Trilling," Kosta continued. "He's here to take Chandris away with him."

"Ah," Ornina said calmly, looking back at Chandris. "And the angel, too, I see," she said, nodding at the carrying case under Chandris's arm. "Welcome to the Gazelle, Trilling. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"Very funny," Trilling said, giving Kosta a shove that sent him stumbling into Chandris. "Not much of a storeroom."

"We don't usually have much that needs storing," Ornina said. "Mostly it's where the angels get collected. I was serious about the tea, you know. Or you could take the angel from Chandris and she could go up and make it."

Trilling snorted. "You are funny," he said. "Okay. You—Kosta—get over there with her."

"Trilling, you don't have to do this," Chandris said, her voice soft and pleading as Kosta moved over beside Ornina. "Please. I'll go with you if you'll just leave them alone."

Trilling turned those insane eyes on her. "Of course you'll go with me," he said, sounding surprised.

"We were meant to be together."

"Trilling, please," Chandris repeated.

"Chandris, what's gotten into you?" Trilling demanded. "What are these targs to you, anyway?"

Kosta darted his eyes around the storeroom, searching for inspiration, his mind flashing back to the other night when Chandris had confronted him with a bright light in the face and the threat of a cutting torch behind it. If she'd actually had a torch, and if it was still in here...

But she hadn't, and it wasn't. Ornina's tools? Too small to serve as weapons. Loose pipes, then, or discarded storage crate lids? But there wasn't anything he could see that wasn't fastened down.

"Enough!" Trilling barked, snapping Kosta's attention back to the discussion. The argument, such as it was, was over.

And Chandris had lost.

"You don't want to watch, you can leave the room," Trilling went on, looking back at Kosta and lifting his knife. "This'll just take a second."

Beside him, Kosta felt Ornina's hand fumble for his. He took her hand, and she squeezed once. Not a grip of panic or even fear, but merely of comfort and friendship. And, perhaps, farewell.

And then she gently disengaged her hand from his. Leaving him free for whatever action he was preparing himself for.

A sudden flood of determination surged through him like a hot cup of Ornina's sadras tea. Ornina was counting on him for her life; Chandris was counting on him for her freedom from this man.

There was no way in hell he was going to fail them.

"All right," Chandris said, her voice humble and defeated. Her eyes flicked once to him as she stepped behind Trilling and headed for the door. Lifting his knife, his eyes glowing with expectation, Trilling started forward.

Kosta let his knees bend slightly into the combat stance he'd been taught and turned his torso slightly, presenting a smaller target to his opponent. His hands were still at his sides, but he could visualize bringing his left arm up to sweep Trilling's knife arm away to the side. With Trilling's torso open, he would throw the hardest kick he could at the other's knee, and follow it up with another kick to the abdomen...

And then, behind Trilling, Chandris turned silently on one foot and brought the angel carrying case down as hard as she could onto his head.

Trilling bellowed with rage, shaking his head once to clear it as he spun around toward his betrayer.

A sweep of his left arm knocked the box from her hands and sent her staggering backwards. The knife flashed in his hand as he brought it back for a killing blow—

And with another bellow he sprawled off-balance as Kosta's kick landed in the back of his right knee.

He hit the deck hard and twisted catlike around onto his back. Kosta started to dive on top of him, broke away at the last second as he belatedly saw that Trilling still had hold of his knife.

Too little, too late. Even as he tried to veer off, Trilling slashed the weapon in a vicious upward arc across Kosta's chest. He felt the tug as his shirt was sliced through; and then his momentum and tangled feet got the better of him and he too toppled onto the deck.

Trilling was back on his feet in an instant. Chandris started toward him; half turning, he slashed the air once to keep her back, then turned back to Kosta, his face contorted into something inhuman.

Kosta scrambled backwards crab-style, his eyes fixed on the knife, trying desperately to get far enough away from Trilling to be able to get back onto his feet.

But Trilling clearly had no intention of giving him that much breathing room. Baring his teeth, he kept coming, his knife held ready. From somewhere to Kosta's left came a soft buzz—

And suddenly Trilling jerked in place as if he'd stepped on a jellyfish. The enraged madman's expression softened into an odd sort of bewilderment, the knife dangling in a loosened grip.

"Again!" Kosta shouted, scrambling to his feet and shooting a glance to his left. Ornina was standing there, her eyes wide, Kosta's shocker gripped in her hand. "Hit him again!"

She squeezed the weapon. There was another buzz, and Trilling jerked again. "Again," Kosta ordered, gingerly trying to ease past the wavering knife. The shocker was still on its lowest setting, and that wasn't going to hold someone like Trilling very long. If Kosta could get to Ornina and dial a higher power—

And then, with a sort of gurgling moan, Trilling lunged at him.

If he'd been in full control of his muscles, Kosta would have died right there. But two jolts from the shocker, even at low power, had scrambled his nervous system just enough. Kosta jumped back, and the knife blade sliced through his left sleeve instead of burying itself into the center of his chest.