"Very well," Lalo said at last, "but don't blame me if it's more than youbargained for." He turned to move on, then stopped again. "And for Shalpa'ssake, take that grin off your face before we go inside!"

Lalo tipped back his tankard, let the last sour wine flow smoothly down histhroat, then banged it on the table to call for more. It had been a long timesince he had come to get drunk here at the Vulgar Unicorn-a long time since hehad gotten drunk anywhere, he realized. Maybe the wine would taste better if hehad some more.

Wedemir raised one eyebrow briefly and took another rationed sip of ale, thenset his own tankard back down. "Well, I haven't seen anything to shock me sofar...."

Lalo swallowed a surge of resentment at the boy's self-discipline. He's probablydespising me... .As the oldest, Wedemir must have known what was happening inthe days when Lalo was trying to drink his troubles away and Gilla took inwashing to keep the family alive. And during the recent years of prosperity theboy had been away with the caravans. Small wonder if he thought his father was asot!

He doesn't understand- Lalo held out his tankard to the skinny serving girl. Hedoesn't know what I've been through....

He let the cool, tart liquor ease the ache in his throat and sat back with asigh. Wedemir was right about the Unicorn, anyway. Lalo had never known such aquiet evening here. The age-polished wooden slats of the booth creaked to hisweight as he relaxed against them, looking around the big room, trying tounderstand the altered atmosphere.

The familiar reek of sweat and sour ale brought back memories; oil lamps setshadows scurrying among the sooty beams overhead and beneath the sturdy tables.Empty tables, mostly, even now, when night had fallen and the place should havebeen as thick with patrons as a Bazaar cur is with fleas. Not that it wasentirely deserted. He recognized the pale, scarred boy they called Zip in one ofthe booths on the other side of the room, sitting with three others, a littleyounger and darker than he was, without his protective veil of cynicism toshield their eyes.

As Lalo watched. Zip pounded the table with his fist, then began to draw somekind of diagram in spilled beer. The artist let his gaze unfocus, saw throughthe masks of flesh a mix of fear and fanaticism that made him recoil. No, hethought, perhaps I had better not use that particular talent here. There weresome souls whose truth he did not want to see.

He forced himself to keep scanning the room. In one comer a man and woman weredrinking together, the scars of old fights marking their faces, and of oldpassions clouding their eyes. They looked like some of Jubal's folk, and hewondered if they were serving their old master again. Beyond them he saw threemen whose tattered gear could not disguise some remnants of soldierly bearingmutineers from the northern wars or mercenaries too dissolute even for the 3rdCommando? Lalo did not want to know.

He took a deep breath and coughed convulsively. That was it; his new senses wereat work despitr his will, and his nostrils flared with the smell of death andthe stink of sorcery. He remembered a rumor he had heard-the tavern-master OneThumb was somehow mixed up with the Ni-sibisi witch, Roxane. Perhaps he shouldgather up Wedemir and get out of here....

But as he started to stand up, his head spun dizzily and he knew that he was inno condition to survive the streets of Sanctuary at this hour. Wedemir wouldlaugh at him, and besides, he had nowhere else to go! Lalo sat back, sighed, andbegan to drink again.

It was two, or perhaps three tankards later that Lalo's blurring gaze fixed on afamiliar dark head and the angular shape of a harpcase humping up the brightcloak its owner wore. He blinked, adjusted his focus, and grinned.

"Cappen Varra!" He gestured broadly toward the bench across from him. "I thoughtyou'd left town!"

"So did I-" the harper answered wryly. "The weather's been too chancy forsailing, so I hooked up with a caravan to Ranke. I was hoping to find someonegoing from there to Carronne." He shrugged the harpcase from his shoulder andset it carefully on the bench, then squeezed into the booth beside Wedemir.

"To Ranke!" the boy exclaimed. "You're lucky to be alive!"

"My son Wedemir-" Lalo gestured. "He's been working Ran Alleyn's string."

Cappen looked at him with new respect, then went on, "I suppose I am lucky-I gotthere just after they did the old Emperor in. There's a new man-Theron, theycall him-in charge there now, and they say your life's not worth a whore'spromise if you're in the Imperial line. So I thought, 'There's Prince Kittycatsitting safe in Sanctuary-things might just be picking up down there!'"

Lalo started to laugh,-choked on his wine, and coughed until Wedemir thumped himon the back and he could breathe again.

"You don't have to tell me-" said Cappen Varra ruefully. "But surely there'ssomething to be made from the situation here. Those Beysin women now-do yousuppose there's some way I..."

"Don't even think about it, Cappen." Lalo shook his head. "At least not the wayyou usually do! They might like your music, but it's worth your life to evenlook as if you were offering anything more!"

The harper gave him a speculative look. "I've heard that, but really..."

"Really-" Wedemir said seriously. "My sister works for one of their royalladies, and she says it's all true."

"Oh well!" Cappen saluted them with his tankard. "There's nothing wrong withtheir gold!" He drank, then glanced at Lalo with a smile. "When I left, you werethe toast of the court. I hardly expected to see you here...."

Lalo grimaced, wondering if his vision were going or it was just that the lampswere burning down. "It's the Beysa's court now, and there's no work for me." Hesaw Cappen's face stiffening into a polite, sympathetic smile, and shook hishead. "But it doesn't matter-I can do other things now... things even Enas Yorlwould like to know." He reached for his tankard.

Cappen Varra looked at Wedemir. "What's he talking about?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't know. Mother said he'd stopped drinking, butthey had a fight and he started talking strange and stormed out. I thought I'dbetter follow and make sure-" He shrugged in embarrassment.

Lalo raised his eyes from the hypnotically swirling reflections in his tankardand fixed his son with a bitter gaze. "And make sure the old man didn't drownhimself? I thought so. But you're wrong, both of you, if you think this isdrunken wandering. Even your mother doesn't know-" Lalo stopped. He had comehere determined to prove his power, but the wine was sapping his will. Did itreally matter? Did anything really matter now?

His wavering gaze fixed on a figure that seemed to have precipitated from theshadows near the door, lean, sullen-browed, with a dark cloak hiding whateverelse he wore. Lalo recognized the face he had seen on Shalpa at the table of thegods and thought. That Hanse, he's another one the gods have played with, andlook at the sour face he's wearing now. For all the good it's done either of us,to hell with the gods!

"Look here. Papa," said Wedemir, "I'm getting tired of all these dark hints andfrowns. Either explain what you're talking about or shut up."

Stung, Lalo straightened and managed to focus his gaze long enough to hold hisson's eyes. "That time I was ill-" He tried to stop himself but the wordsflooded out like an undammed stream. "I was with the gods. I can breathe lifeinto what I draw, now."