Azel could not figure out why the old boy had let them get away with dumpingGorloch. He knew Nakar had claimed there was no point imposing on jerks whorefused to believe. But he never quite figured out why that mattered.

He had been around, up and down the coast, and even across the sea, out wherethe gods were really bizarre, and he thought he knew one thing about religion: the fact of actual belief did not matter. You had to know how to go throughthe motions and you had to be able to say, "How much?" whenever a priest stuckout his hand and said, "Gimme." That was all.

Azel did not know if he was a believer or not. He had been doing all the rightthings for so long it was all habit. He did know he found the ferociousGorloch a more satisfying deity than Aram with his softhearted, softheaded, otherworldly love and forgive-thy-neighbor crap.

He irked Torgo by chuckling. If he wanted a stand-up, he-man god he ought togo with the Herodian's anonymous deity, who had no other name but God. Thatone was all thunder and lightning and kicking ass. But a goddamned psycho, too. His doctrine was all do what I tell you or die, sucker, and the hell withit's something stupid, or it conflicts with something you've already been toldto do.

Herod had not pressed religious issues in Qushmarrah. Yet. The Herodians werespread thin. If ever they felt secure enough to dispense with theunpredictable Dartar meres it would be Granny bar the door, Qushmarrah you'regoing to get the One True Faith. Or burn.

Azel chuckled again, remembering a scheme he'd bounced off the Genera] three, four years back. It involved having kids-so small any Herodian laying a handon them would get torn apart-go around giving the occupiers chunks of stonewith lots of points and sharp edges.

It would have worked. They would have laughed Herod out of town. But the oldman had said it was undignified to attack a man through his toilet habits.

Crap. You went after your enemies any way you could, and you kicked them whenthey were down.

Azel chuckled again, because that irritated the eunuch. But he cut it off asthey approached the guard at the door of the audience chamber. Time to workhimself up.

A hundred years ago she had been the greatest beauty on the coast, and forthat alone suitors had come to Caldera from as far west as Deoro Etrain, whereOcean hammered and raged against bleak and rocky shores. They had come fromthe east, from far Aquira, Karen, and Bokhar. They had come from over the sea, on ships with sails purple and scarlet and blue the color of heavenstone, fromCathede and Nargon and Barthea. Those princes and lords could have swoonedwhen they saw the reality. They would have taken her with her beauty alone fordowry.

But there was more. Much more. It made them bring great treasures with whichto gift Caldera.

She had been that one girl child in a generation born with a talent forsorcery. That one in a generation whose talent could become a tool more potentthan the genius of any general.

She had had the world at her feet then. And young as she had been, alreadythey had begun to call her the Witch-more because of the way she had toyedwith them than because of her talent. She had led them around, taunting theminto escalating their offers, with no real intention of selling herself off, or of allowing the lords of Caldera to auction her ...

That had been their plan and wish. Gold, power, alliances. Her father himselfhad been one of those she had made excruciatingly uncomfortable, with a cruelcase of boils, when the attempt to sell her was made.

Then the Archimage of Qushmarrah, Nakar, had come to Caldera.

He had not come in style or state. He had brought no gifts or promises.

Already his dread god had been shorn of significance by the fickleQushmarrahan mob. He had only his unassailable citadel and his ruthlessdeathgrip on the political power in Qushmarrah.

He had been half as old as the world even then, though he had looked a fit, lean, virile forty. He had been a darkly handsome man with wavy black hairspotted by a hen's egg of silver above his right eye, an inch and a halfbehind his hairline. His eyes had been dark and magnetic and afire withintrigue.

She had known the moment she met his smoldering gaze.

Dark tales clustered around him like moths fluttering around a lamp. They saidthis. They said that. They said he lived on, young, not because of hissorcery, nor because he was first acolyte to, and favored of, his god, butbecause he had become one of the undead, the devourers of blood and souls.

None of that mattered after that first meeting of eye with eye. None of thatmattered now.

She had aged, but not her hundred years. She looked a well-preserved thirty- five. Little of the impact of her beauty had faded. It remained her mostpotent tool.

It was a tool without a handle or edge when she dealt with Azel. Azel seemedblind or just plain indifferent.

He pushed inside behind Torgo. Torgo's jaw was tight. Azel's taunting hadbegun to reach him.

She steeled herself. Azel would be brash and crude and raw in an effort to puther on the defensive. He would succeed, probably. Because of that absolute, deadly confidence with which he faced everyone-even those able to swat himlike a fly.

She did not know his true name. Her husband had called him Azel, afterGorloch's demonic messenger. Nakar had trusted Azel. Azel was, she believed, the only living being Nakar had trusted without reservation. And even he, majestic and dauntless as a storm in his power, had been a little afraid ofAzel.

The trouble was, Azel never failed to accomplish what he set out to do. Thatmade you uncomfortable when you tried to push him a direction he did not wantto go.

"Good evening, Azel. I understand you have a problem."

"We all got a problem, woman. They're closing in. I had to use my flash packetto get a gang of Dartars off my back today."

She knew where he was going. He'd hinted before that he thought she waspushing the project too hard, that gathering too many subjects too fast wouldcatch the eye of the Herodian commander. "Tell me the circumstances, Azel."

She wanted to stall.

But she had had time to think already, since Torgo had told her Azel insistedon an audience. She had not gotten her mind ordered.

Why did he rattle her so?

Azel told it in his clipped, raw way.

"It was a coincidence, then. Not something to worry about, after all."

"You missed the point, woman."

"Torgo!" Offended by the man's tone, the eunuch had started to move. Azelgrinned. "If I'm blind, Azel, open my eyes. Show me the point I missed."

"I had to use flash to give Dartars the slip. If I wanted to hang on to thekid. I should've killed them. But I couldn't do that without letting go of thebrat."

"I still don't see ..."

"Flash, woman. Flash. You think every guy that hangs out in alleys has got apocket full of flash to throw when the heat closes in?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. It's going to start them wondering. Maybe even wondering why it was sodamned important to hang on to the kid. They're going to start askingquestions. If they get any honest answers they might start seeing patterns.

There's plenty of clues if they pay attention."

"So what would you suggest?"

"Back off awhile. Don't give them anything more to check out. You got thirtykids down there and don't have a notion if one of them isn't the one you want.

Let it ride till you find out."

"No. There are nineteen more on the list, Azel. And it's mathematicallycertain that between five and ten remain unidentified. That's almost as big agroup. Another third of the whole. Every hour we delay is an hour of risk.

It's been a lucky group of children. Only six have died between birth and thepresent. But if the one we want is one that had died or will die before we gethold of him, we end up starting all over with a new group. A group, in fact, for every one that died. How much greater the risks, then, with groups ofyounger children? The thing grows monstrous, Azel."