Without hesitation, I threw myself to the side, tucked into a roll, and came up with a knife in each hand. I never should have left my sword in my bedroom.

A ball of light flared over the path, illuminating it like noon on a cloudless summer day. Magic! I blinked and shaded my eyes. This was no mere holdup. A manlike creature dressed in red robes and carrying a tall wooden staff stood before me. A pair of short horns curled back over a slightly pointed skull. I guessed his age somewhere between forty-five and fifty—though considering how long-lived the denizens of Chaos were, I could have been off by a hundred years—or a thousand.

“You won't take me without a fight!” I snarled.

“Ah! You must be Oberon, then.” He nodded pleasantly, leaning on his staff. I glanced around, but he seemed to be alone. “Your talent for survival is becoming legend in certain circles.”

“Who are you?” I watched him warily, but he made no move toward weapons. “I don't believe we've met.”

“The name is Suhuy.” He said it like it meant something, but it didn't—at least, not to me.

“Lord Suhuy?” I guessed. “Of Chaos?”

“If you wish.” He shrugged. “Such titles are meaningless. It is a man's deeds that matter. Those speak for him long after he is dust.”

“True.” I lowered my knives. Clearly Suhuy wasn't scared of me. “I assume you're here to kill me,” I said.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” He continued to lean heavily on his staff, as though he needed it to walk. “An old man like me doesn't go around attacking people. It would be… unseemly.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Merely to look upon the face of the man who killed Lord Thellops. I thought you would be taller.”

“Why seek me out if not revenge?”

“I have no need for revenge.” He smiled again. “Thellops was neither well liked nor well understood in Chaos. Many are secretly relieved that he is gone.”

I folded my arms. “All right, then. You've looked upon my face. Return to the Courts of Chaos and seek me no more.”

“So quickly to the point.” He tsk-tsked, shaking his head. “All the niceties of conversation are lost on the young…”

“Too many people from Chaos have tried to kill me over the last year. I find my patience at an end.”

“Is it my appearance that disturbs you?” He took a step forward. His body seemed to melt and reflow, and a moment later he stood there as a young human boy in a white tunic, with olive skin and wide innocent eyes. “I will change, if it makes you more comfortable.”

I shook my head. “Go home, Suhuy.”

He took another step, becoming a beautiful woman in a sweeping green gown, with long black hair, an ample bosom, and the delicate face of an angel. Against my will, I let out a horrified gasp. I knew her; this was Helda, my poor dead love from Ilerium. Hell-creatures had killed her before trying to kill me.

“See?” Suhuy said in Helda's voice, soft and sensuous. “Those born of Chaos need not appear threatening to you…”

“Enough games!” I threw a knife at his head.

Helda/Suhuy caught the blade between thumb and forefinger, an inch from her left eye. She flowed, becoming a horned old man again. He leaned heavily on his staff. The knife was gone.

“Very well,” he said. “I will speak plainly, since that is what you want.”

I tensed. Here it came—the attack I had been expecting.

But Suhuy merely said, “There is an elaborate game being played out in Chaos and in Shadow. You must know this by now. We are all pawns to larger powers. In killing Master Thellops, you upset the gameboard… and elevated me to a new rank.”

“Not intentionally,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I find myself in your debt.” He inclined his head slightly. “All in Chaos are not your enemies, Oberon. Remember that in years to come.”

“What do you really want?” I asked. If he had a point, I wished he would get to it. This whole conversation made me distinctly uneasy.

“Right now… I want nothing. In fact, I have a gift for you. Lo!”

He pointed with his staff. The air between us crackled with lightning. It formed a sphere, which bulged like a pregnant calf. With a sound like thunder and a blast of hot wind, it broke open. From inside tumbled a gaunt, half-naked man. He struggled to rise from the pebble path, then fell back. I stared at his long matted hair and his torn and filthy pants. He stank like an open sewer.

“What sort of trick is this?” I cried, half gagging from the odor.

Suhuy covered his mouth with a delicate lace handkerchief. “Thank me another time,” he said. When he raised his staff, the ball of light over his head winked out. He was gone.

“Oberon?” a weak voice called.

I hurried forward and knelt beside the man.

“I'm here,” I said softly. “Who are you?”

“It's me,” he said in a weak voice. “Conner…”

“Conner!” I rolled him over, but couldn't see his features clearly in the darkness. And that stench!

“Help me…” he whispered. “Water…”

I hesitated, knowing I couldn't carry him inside in this condition. Too many people would ask too many questions. Where could I get him cleaned up the fastest? Another Shadow?

No—even better. This inn had a series of fountains in the middle of the flower gardens. I had noticed a series of interlocking pools from my suite earlier. If I could clean Conner up there, he wouldn't smell so bad when I brought him back up to my room.

I threw his arm over my shoulder, but he was too weak to stand and walk, even with help. Finally I picked him up and carried him. He couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds—he had been reduced to little more than skin and bones. King Uthor or Thellops or Lord Zon had been starving him for months.

As I trotted down the pebble path with my burden, I passed men and women seated on secluded benches among the roses, kissing gently and groping not-so-gently, but I paid them little heed. They were too wrapped up in their own business to notice us.

When I reached the first pool, pale shapes of fish drifted ghostlike beneath the surface, passing among the dark silhouettes of lily-pads. In the center, a marble statue of a nymph on a pedestal poured an endless stream of water from an amphora.

I sat Conner on the low wall around the fountain, and he leaned down to the water and drank greedily for a long time. Then he sat back, gasping. After a minute, he drank again. I waited patiently. He needed time to gather his strength.

At last he sat up and looked at me.

“Where are we?” he asked in a rough voice.

“It's just a Shadow,” I said. “I don't know its name. Dad, Blaise, Freda, and Aber are all inside the inn—that big building over there.” I pointed. “I'll take you in as soon as you're cleaned up a bit.”

He licked his lips. “You wouldn't happen to have any food, would you? Maybe some bread or cheese—”

“Sorry, afraid not. I didn't want to leave you here while I went back to the kitchens. If you want, though, I can run back—”

He didn't wait for me to finish, but reached out and pulled what looked like half a leg of lamb from mid-air. Of course he had used the Logrus. The meat steamed, obviously fresh from someone's dinner table. From the smell, it had been basted with mint jelly, too.

He bit into it eagerly, chewing and swallowing in great gulps. I didn't blame him for not waiting; I would have done the same thing in his place.

I sat beside him and watched him eat. When he finally finished, he drank again, more slowly this time, then washed his hands and face.

“Better?” I asked. His strength seemed to be returning. Along with his table manners.

“Yes, thanks. Who else did you say was here?”

I told him.

“That's it?” He stared at me incredulously.

I nodded. “And now you.”

“All the others? What about Titus?”