"Janni-"

The murdered Stepson wavered, assumed a more human aspect-Janni the way he hadbeen, before the Nisi witch had him for the night.

"She's yours, Janni." Ischade's distant whisper. "Stilcho. Come on back. Ace-"

His war-name. He had never told her that.

"Get her," Ischade whispered. "I'll hold-hold here. Get her. Bring it in onher...."

Janni turned, like an image reflected in brass; moved like one, jerking andindistinct. Another presence stirred, more substantial: Stilcho staggered up,clawed branches for support. Strat moved, stung to be the last. "Janni-dammit,wait!"

But nothing could catch that rippling thing. It paid no heed to winds or brush.Strat thrust out his arm and forced his way through brush, passed Stilcho'sefforts-crashed against a projecting branch and broke it on his leather jerkin,a crack swallowed in the wind.

Thorns raked him; the wall of the house loomed in front of him, and Janni wasfar ahead, diminishing as if he ran some far shore, then vanishing within thedark of that river-stone wall, with its oaken door.

"Janni!" No more need of silence. Janni had lost to the witch before-was alonein there, past barriers-gods knew what-"Janni!" He hit not the door but theshutters, shattered the rotting wood and plunged through in a roll overshattered pieces, into furnishings-blinding light. Shock lanced through hismarrow, flung him flat. His head hit the floor, his sword was-gods, where?-hisfingers too numb to feel it; but Stilcho was in, scrambling past him, hacking atsomething-

Muscle rolled over him, live and round and moving. He yelled and thrust it offand lurched for his knees-snake, the motion told him; he yelled and hacked atit, and it looped and thrashed-not the only one. He rolled to his knees andchopped at the looping coils for all the strength that was in him. Stilcho gotthe head off it: it had begun to scream.

Coils passed through Janni. He just kept moving. And Roxane-the witch Roxane,amid the room-in the midst of that place-stood black in the heart of fire; apillar of dark, whose hair crackled with the light that came from her fingersand her face. Her hand lifted, and pointed, and the fire leaped. Janni wentblack himself against that light, a shadow, nothing more. The fire began towail.

Strat tried; he flung himself forward.

"Get back!" It was Stilcho grabbed him, on some brink he could not see, beyondwhich was a fall that took them both, down, down, into dark-

But Janni had his arms about the witch, and lightnings wrapped them and crawledup and down the pair of them like veinwork, till the thunder rolled. The lightriddled him, shredded his darkness, blew both of them in tatters; and suckedinward then with one deafening clap of thunder.

Darkness then. The stink of burning.

"Janni? Janni? Stilcho-'

The wind fell. Fell so suddenly it was like death; with one great crack ofthunder that must have hit something near.

The ships started pitching on a sea gone chaotic, no longer heeled by the wind,no longer straining at the cables. "Gods!" Kama breathed.

"-hit somewhere riverside," the servant said, superfluous as ever. MolinTorchholder clenched the sill and felt his heart start labored beats again.

"I'd say it did."

But where, he could not tell. There was a blossoming of flame in that far dark,not the only one. There were burnings here and there.

None large yet.

And nothing had gotten through.

It was nothing he wanted to remember. It was most of the walk back before hecould hear; and most of the long walk he staggered off on his own, reeling thisway and that like a drunken man. But sometimes Stilcho had his arm about him,sometimes She had his hand...

... There was fire, another sort of fire, safely in a hearth. The smell ofherbs. Of musk.

Ischade's dusky face. She knelt beside his chair, by her fireside, by the tamelight. Her hood was back. The light shone on her hair.

"Janni-" he said. It was the first thing he remembered saying.

"Stilcho brought you," Ischade said. She leaned aside. Wine spilled with aliquid, busy sound, the pungency of grapes. She offered him the cup. And he satstill.

The mind took a long time collecting images like that. He sat staring at thefire and feeling the ache in all his bones.

"-Janni?"

"Resting."

"Dead. He's dead, leave him dead, dammit-" thinking of Niko, of Niko's grief,half-of-whole. It would break Niko's heart. "Isn't a man safe dead?"

"I'd have used others. Other souls were-inaccessible. His wasn't. To reach himtook very little, in that cause. Stilcho's gotten adept at that two-way trip." Astep drew near. Haught's face loomed. "You can go," she said, looking up atHaught. "See to the uptown house. They'll want reassuring."

Haught padded away, took his cloak. There was brief chill as the door opened andclosed again. The fire fluttered.

"Roxane," Strat said.

She put the cup into his hand. Closed his fingers on it. "Power has its otherside. It's not well to be interrupted- in so great a spell."

"Is she dead?"

"If not, she's uncomfortable."

He drank, one quick swallow after the other. It took the taste of burning fromhis mouth. She took the cup, set it aside. Leaned her arm and head on his kneelike any woman gazing into the fire. And turned her head and looked up at him. Apulse began, the chill about him thawed, but the world seemed very far away.

"Come to bed," she said. "I'll keep you warm."

"How long?"

She shut her eyes. For a moment he was cold. Opened them again and the room grewwarm and the pulse grew in all his veins.

"You've always mistaken me," she said. "Vampire I am not. You think it's what Ichoose. I don't. But some things I can choose."

Her hand closed on his. He leaned down and touched her lips, not caring, notcaring to recall or think ahead. It was the way he had gone into that house.Because Ranke might well be through. And he was, soon; and time was, he hadlearned in his own craft, no one's friend.

"Damnedest thing," Zaibar said, wiping at his soot-streaked face, and a moment'sconsternation took him. His eyes refocused. "Begging pardon, reverence-"

"Report."

"Got a dozen dead out there we've counted so far, just up and down the streets.Dead men-throats cut, some; stabbed-"

"The ships, Zaibar."

"A few timbers stove, but the Bey's folk, they got to them-the bodies,reverence-a dozen of them."

"In Sanctuary," Molin said with a pitying look at the Hell-Hound, "we notice adozen bodies come dawn?"

"Two at Siphinos's door; one at Elinos's. Three at Agal-in's.... They're Nisi.Every one."

"Hey," someone yelled. "Hey-"

He was in the street; his horse under him. He blinked at the sun and theordinary sights of Sanctuary and caught himself against the saddlebow, staringdown at the man who had stopped his horse, a common tradesman. There was a buzzof consternation about. Dimly Strat understood the horse had gotten to somemischief with a produce cart. He stared helplessly at the old man who stared athim in a troubled way; Ilsigi-dark, and recognizing a Rankan lost and prey toanything that might happen to a man by day in Sanctuary streets.

Shingles lay scattered on the cobbles; a tavern sign hung by one ring; debriswas everywhere. But trade went on. The bay horse was after apples.

He felt after his purse. It was gone; and he could not remember how. He wouldhave flung the man a coin and paid the damage and forgotten the Wriggly entire;but they were all round him, men, women, silent in mutual embarrassment, mutualhate, and mutual helplessness.