I wondered why I'd ever had anything to do with him.

The day of the Council meeting dawned clear and cold. The drizzle and gray skies that had continued for the last two days broke. It irked me that the ses- sion had been set up for late afternoon. I had to waste yet another day with the tension, boredom, and Caimbeul's habits.

At four we began to get ready, and by five we were in the rented limo heading for the meeting. It was already beginning to grow dark as we finally reached the estate where the meeting was to take place.

It was located west of the city. As the car swung into the wide gates flanking the drive, I saw that there were hundreds of rose bushes lining the drive. They were denuded of foliage. Their thorny canes stark and skeletal against the fading October sky.

Several other limos were parked in front of the large house as we pulled up. There were also a cou- ple of high-octane performance cars modified with body armor.

"Looks like the joint's jumpin'," said Harlequin. "Nice cars. I wonder who they belong to."

"Jinkies, Caimbeui, maybe you and the boys can go drag racing after the sock hop," I said.

"You don't have to get snippy about it," he said.

"You're a gadabout," I said. "Utterly irresponsi- ble. Can't you keep your mind on the matter at hand?"

"Why should I?" he asked. "When you're perfectly capable of doing all the worrying for both of us."

"Jerk."

"Shrew."

"Shmuck."

"Harpy."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Well, shall we go and meet the crowd?" Caim- beui asked. "I understand they've finished with the pagans and are moving on to the Christians."

"I think they'll find us stringy and unpalat- able."

"One can only hope."

We were met at the door by a retinue of Surehand's Paladins. They were attired in their Crusader-ish ar- mor and toting SMGs, pistols, and other sidearms and pieces of gear I knew nothing of. Such blind reliance on technology could get these boys in a lot of trouble, I thought.

We were escorted into the massive foyer and down a wide hallway leading to the back of the house. More like a palace. Fifteen-foot ceilings, twelve-foot-wide hallways, heavy, cream-colored damask wallpaper, marble tile underfoot. The Pala- dins' boots made loud echoes against the floor. Doorways leading off the halls showed enormous rooms decorated in luxurious fabrics, woods, and stone.

I wondered whose property this was. It dwarfed Lugh Surehand's place in size and richness. I couldn't imagine Aithne here. Nor Ehran. It hardly seemed their style. Our invitation to the Council had mentioned only the time and location: six p.m. at Ozymandias. Caimbeui seemed to know where to go.

At last we came to a set of doors at the end of the hallway. The lead Paladin opened the doors and an- nounced us.

"Aina Sluage and Caimbeui har lea Quinn," he said.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Caimbeui was close behind.

Had I been Harlequin, I would have delighted at the expressions passing over those faces, but I was too nervous. I knew they wouldn't guess how I felt. None of them knew me well enough to see that.

"Courage," I heard Caimbeui whisper in my ear.

Fires burned in the hearths at either end of the hall. Oriental rugs were scattered over the inlaid wood floor. Oversized chairs and couches were ar- ranged in comfortable groupings. That is, comfort- able if you're expecting a hundred or so of your closest personal friends.

At one end of the hall were a handful of the Coun- cil members. Lofwyr had changed from his black suit into a lurid peacock-blue satin that would have done a pimp proud. He smiled and bowed slightly at me. I knew he'd probably remain neutral, no matter what happened. Sometimes you just couldn't depend on dragons.

Ehran was ensconced on one of the couches. He wore his usual black, a habit that I found a trifle an- noying. As though wearing black made you some- how more imposing, or cool, or serious. Though it did contrast nicely with his white hair and cold blue eyes. We made eye contact, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was as though our meeting the other day had never taken place.

Sean Laverty was perched on the arm of one of the chairs. Unlike the other men, he was clean- shaven. His eyes were clear leaf-green, his hair au- burn. I knew he was against the technological leanings of the Tir. Of the group, his garb was the simplest. A T-shirt and jeans with a jacket thrown on tqp. In one earlobe he wore a dangling silver dragon. I wondered what Lofwyr made of that.

Sitting in the chair was Jenna Ni-Fairra. She was whispering something to Laverty as I approached the group.

"Sean, Jenna," I said.

"Aina," they replied in unison. I wondered for a moment if they were joined at the hip.

"Did anyone miss me?" came a voice behind me. An all too familiar voice. I turned. Alachia. She glided over to Jenna and kissed her cheek. They were remarkably alike. Except for the coloring, they could have been twins. Where Alachia's hair was deep red, Jenna's was platinum blond. Alachia's eyes were clear sapphire blue; Jenna's emerald green. But the face was the same. Delicate and fey. Unearthly beauty. What a bore.:

"Why must you wear these things?" asked Alachia, grabbing Jenna's black leather jacket and giving it a shake. "Upstairs I know you have a closet full of…"

Jenna gave her a hard look, and Alachia laughed it off. "A mother's prerogative," she said lightly. She glanced around the room. "Well, it looks as if we're almost all here."

Just then there was the sound of raised voices coming down the hall. We all turned. In a moment, the doors flew open. Aithne burst in with the Paladin guard hot on his heels. They tried to slow him down, but he thrust one hand up behind him and they flew back into the hall.

"What the hell were you thinking of with those/ damn roses?" said Aithne. "Alachia, if this is youir sick idea of a jok-"

Then he saw me.

His face had been flushed. Now it went white.

"What the frag is she doing here?" he asked. His voice was cold. Utterly devoid of emotion.

"Isn't it the nicest surprise?" said Alachia, coming up next to him and tucking her arm in his. "Aina asked Lugh to call a meeting of the Council. And he agreed." She leaned against Aithne and beamed at me.

I wanted to throttle her.

"I'm leaving," he said. "There is nothing that woman can say that will interest me in the least."

He swung around and headed toward the door.

"You'd best not go," said Surehand. "I would look unfavorably upon it."

Aithne stopped, then turned again, slowly.

"And what is that supposed to be?" Aithne asked. "A threat?"

"No," replied Surehand. "I don't want you to let old personal matters hinder your judgment of these events. If you leave, you give tacit approval to any- thing we decide."

"Not if I leave under protest."

"The result will be the same. We will make a de- cision, and you will have to live with it."

Aithne glared at Surehand for a long moment.

"Very well. This woman," he said, pointing at me, "is a treacherous bitch and nothing she says can be trusted."

"So much for the impartial hearing," murmured Caimbeul.

"Your taste in companions leaves much to be de- sired," Aithne said to Caimbeul.

"People in glass houses," replied Caimbeul, look- ing pointedly at Alachia. Aithne glanced down and saw she was still attached to his arm. He jerked his arm away and stalked to one of the large arm chairs, where he flung himself down.

"All right," he said. "What's this all about?"

"Aina," said Lugh. "If you please."

Caimbeul gave me a little pat on the back, ther went and took a seat on the couch next to Ehran They began a subtle war of who could sprawl on tht couch most. Aithne refused to look at me, while Jenna and Sean whispered and giggled.