Falagh nearly choked. "That's brilliant," he said, though he was also uneasy at having been so cleverly fooled. Well, at least that explains why Marga was so agreeable, he thought. "What… are you?" he asked.

The copy of Pilos seemed affronted by the question, but Grozier interposed himself between the two of them. "Suffice it to say that I pay them well for their services, and let's leave it at that," he said. "They are rather sensitive about their privacy."

Falagh nodded and made a gesture of apology. "Of course," he said, though he was still fascinated. "And you said 'them?' So you have employed more than one?"

Grozier nodded. "For a time, it was necessary to have them pose as Marga's twin children, so no one else in the family would know that I had taken them to House Talricci for safekeeping," he chuckled. It was a cold, mirthless laugh. "Now that no one is left to oppose me within the House, I see no need to continue the ruse. The children can return to their mother, and we can employ my special friends here for other things."

"Such as posing as Pilos," Falagh finished. "Brilliant," he repeated.

"Or for spying on other Houses," Grozier said with a smug grin. "The other one is still at the party, mingling with the other guests in the guise of a distant cousin."

"How interesting," Lobra said, insinuating herself into the conversation once again. She looked at the duplicate of Pilos and said, "Perhaps you or your companion might be interested in working for me for a short time. I have an idea that might just be delightful."

The mimicking creature nodded, though Falagh noticed that Grozier frowned.

Doesn't like to share, does he? the Mestel scion thought.

"I'd love to stay and chat about all the possibilities of imitating our enemies," Junce interrupted, "but I have places I need to be tonight. Events in Reth still require my attention. So I assume we've settled all the issues that concerned you two gentlemen about tonight's activities?"

Grozier nodded, but Falagh had one last point. "The mirror," he reminded them all. "How do I get the mirror?"

"Ah, that," Junce said, grimacing. "Come with me, then. And bring your wizard, Grozier. We'll need his talents to get the thing safely to House Pharaboldi."

As the group dispersed, Falagh followed the assassin down into the deeper parts of the palace. He was still concerned about Eles Wianar's meddling.

But there are ways to get around that, he thought, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

Marga hadn't realized she had dozed off until a light from the hallway beyond her room awakened her. She squinted in the brightness of it, realizing somewhere in the back of her mind that it had grown dark outside, and that no lanterns had yet been lit in her chambers. Whoever had opened the door was speaking to her, but Marga was too groggy to understand any of it at first. She just wanted them to pull the door shut again and let her go back to sleep.

Then all the horrible memories came rushing back to her, and she sat bolt upright on the bed.

It was Mirolyn Skolotti, and she had brought a tray of food. "Lady Marga, are you hungry?" she asked as she moved to set the meal on a side table. She carried a taper candle she had brought with her and began to light the various lanterns hanging from hooks on the walls and ceilings. The entire chamber was soon bathed in warm amber light.

"No, not really," Marga heard herself say. "Just leave the tray and I'll try it a bit later. I really want to rest." Don't listen to my words! she thought, silently struggling to say something else. Help me!

Mirolyn looked at her, hands on her hips. "Lady Marga, I know it's been a hard few tendays for you, with all that's gone on around here, and today was particularly difficult, with the passing of Lady Hetta and all. But wouldn't you feel better if you came out into the sitting room to be with everyone else? Don't you think that would make you feel a little better?"

"No," Marga lied. "I just want to rest, by myself, in here." No, I don't! she silently screamed, unable even to contort her face to make her frantic feelings obvious to the other woman. Damn you, Bartimus, what did you do to me?

Mirolyn started to shake her head and say something else, but then she seemed to think better of it and snapped her mouth shut again. She took one last glance around the room and her frown deepened. "Where are the children? I just realized I haven't seen them all day."

Marga wanted to sob. My babies, she thought. Please help me save my precious babies. Instead, she simply said, "They went to stay at House Talricci for a couple of days. I thought it better for them, with the gloom that has settled here."

Mirolyn scowled at the mention of Marga's brother, but she was too polite to voice her dislike. "Very well," she said at last. "I'll leave you alone, then." And she turned to depart. Then she turned back at the door and said, "If you need anything, you come find me, all right?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but thank you, Mirolyn." Don't leave! I don't want to be alone! Please come back! Please figure it out!

But Mirolyn did leave, pulling the door shut behind her, never noticing the single tear that ran down the woman's face.

After she was gone, Marga couldn't even force herself to walk across the floor and pull the door open again. She wanted to-with all of her will she wanted to dash out into the sitting room and beg them all to help her. But the enchantment that Bartimus had laid upon her-at Grozier's direction, of course-prevented her from acting on her wishes. Being imprisoned in her chamber was even worse than the time Bartimus had turned her into a living statue so she couldn't move.

The wizard's instructions had been simple, direct. "You are to remain in this room at all times, and you may not tell anyone that anything is wrong, or that you have been magically hindered, or that your children are in any way threatened or in danger. If anyone asks about you, you are to claim that you are simply tired and wish to rest."

And it had worked.

After Grozier and those two fiendish changelings had departed, Marga had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to leave her chambers, but Bartimus's spell was quite effective. She could no more approach the door than she could walk on the ceiling. She spent the next part of the day crying herself to sleep, until Mirolyn had appeared.

But the young woman was gone again, and Marga was alone once more to uselessly fight against the magic that restrained her.

Then it hit her. Why am I such a fool? she thought, so angry with herself. I cannot fight the enchantment, but perhaps I can find a way around it, a loophole. Something that slipped that worm's mind when he set the conditions. What could it be?

Marga spent a few moments wracking her brain, trying to remember the wizard's words exactly. On impulse, she moved to her writing desk and took up a piece of parchment. She grabbed a quill and tried to write the truth of the matter.

The ink, and the words, flowed freely.

For the first time in several days, Marga Matrell smiled.