Her pulse quickened as the visitor tried the latch. She relaxed the ward thatsealed the door, and it swung inward, a gust that guttered the candles, amidthat gust a cloaked, hunched man who smelled of fear. She tightened the wardagain and the door closed, against the wind, with a thump that made the visitorturn, startled, in his

tracks.

He did not try it. He looked back again, cast the hood back from a face fire hadtouched. His eyes were dilated, wild.

'Why do you come?' she asked, intrigued, despite a life that had long sincelacked variety. In the casual matter of the door she had dropped pretences thatshe wore like robes; he knew, must know, that he was in deadly jeopardy. 'Whosent you?' He seemed the sort not to plan, but to do what others planned.

'I'm one of the h-hawkm-masks. M-mor-am.' The face jerked, twisting the mouth;the whole head nodded with the effort of speech. 'M-message.' He fumbled out apaper and offered it to her in a shaking hand.

'So.' He was not so unhandsome, viewed from the right side. She walked aroundhim, to that view, but he followed her with his eyes, and that was error, tomeet her stare for stare. She smiled at him, being in that mood. Mor-am. Thename nudged memory, and wakened interest. Mor-am. The underground pricked up itsears in interest at that name - could this man be running Jubal's errands again?Likely as summer frost. She tilted her head and considered him, this wreckage.'Whose message?' she asked.

'T-take it.' The paper fluttered in his hand.

She took it, felt of it. 'What does it say?' she asked, never taking her eyesfrom his.

'The Stepsons - t-there's another d-dead. They s-sent me.'

'Did they?'

'C-common problem. M-Moruth. The beggars. They're k-killing us both.'

'Stepsons,' she said. 'Do you know my name, Mor-am? It's Ischade.' She keptwalking, saw the panic grow. 'Have you heard that name before?'

A violent shake of the head, a clamping of the jaw.

'But you are more notorious than I-in certain quarters. Jubal misses you. Andyou carry Stepson messages - what do they say to tell me?'

'Anyt-thing you a-asked m-me.'

'Mor-am.' She stopped before him, held him with her eyes. Her hand that hadrested on his shoulder touched the side of his jaw, Stilled the tic, the jerkingof muscles, his rapid breathing. Slowly the contorted body straightened to standtall; the drawn muscles of his face relaxed. She began to move again, and hefollowed her, turning as she wove spells of compulsion, until she stood beforethe great bronze mirror in its shroud of carelessly thrown silks. At times inthis mirror she cast spells. Now she cast another, and showed him himself,smiled at him the while. 'So you will tell me,' she said, 'anything.'

'What did you do?' he asked. Even the voice was changed. Tears leapt to eyes, tovoice. 'What did you do?'

'I took the pain. A small spell. Not difficult for me.' She moved again, so thathe must turn to follow her, with dreamlike slowness. 'Tell me - what you know.Tell me who you are. Everything. Jubal will want to know.'

'They caught me, the Stepsons caught me, they made me -'

She felt the lie and sent the pain back, watched the body twist back to itsformer shape.

'I - t-turned - traitor,' the traitor said, wept, sobbed. 'I s-s-sold them, soldother hawkmasks - to the Stepsons. My sister and I -we had to live, after Juballost it all. I mean, how were we going to live? - We didn't know. We had to. Ihad to. My sister - didn't know.' She had let go the pain and the words keptcoming, with the tears. His eyes strayed from her to the mirror. '0 gods -'

'Go on,' she said, ever so softly, for this was truth, she knew. 'What do theStepsons want? What do you want? What are you prepared to pay?'

'Ge( Moruth. That's what they want. The beggar-lord. And this man - this man oftheirs, they think the beggars have got, get him back - safe.'

'These are not trifles.'

'They'll pay - I'm sure - they'll pay.'

She unfolded the note, perused it carefully, holding it before the light. Itsaid much of that. It offered gold. It promised - immunities - at which shesmiled, not humorously. 'Why, it mentions you,' she said. 'It says I might lendyou back to Jubal. Do you think he would

be amused?'

'No,' he said. There was fear, multiplying fear: she could smell it. It prickledat her nerves.

'But when you carry messages for rogues,' she said, 'you should expect suchsmall jokes.' She folded the note carefully, folded it several times until itwas quite small, until she opened her hand, being whimsical, and the paper notewas gone.

He watched this, this magician's trick, this cheap comedy of bazaars. It amusedher to confound him, to suddenly brighten all the fires 'til the candles gleamedlike suns, 'til he flinched and looked as if he would go fleeing for the door.

It would not have yielded. And he did not. He stood still, with his little shredof dignity, his body clenched, the tic working at his face as she let the spellfade.

So this was a man. At least the remnant of one. The remnant of what had almostbeen one. He was still young. She began to pace round him, back of him, to thescarred left side. He turned the other way to look at her. The tic grew more andmore pronounced.

'And what if I could not do what they wish? I have turned their betters downbefore. You come carrying their messages. Is there nothing - more personal youwould want?'

'The p-pain.'

'Oh. That. Yes, I can ease it for a time. If you come back to me. If you keepyour bargains.' She stepped closer still, took the marred face between herhands. 'Jubal, on the other hand, would like you the way the beggars left you.He would flay you inch by inch. Your sister -' She brushed her lips across hisown, gazed close into his eyes. 'She has been under a certain shadow for yoursake. For what you did.'

'Where is she? Ils blast you, whereT

'A place I know. Look at me, go on looking, that's right. That's very good. Nopain, none at all. Do you understand - Mor-am, what you have to do?'

'The Stepsons -'

'I know. There's someone watching the house.' She kissed him long andlingeringly, her arms twined behind his neck, smiled into his eyes. 'My friend,a hawkmask's a candle in the wind these days; a hawkmask other hawkmasks hunt- hasn't a chance in the world. The contagion's even gotten to your sister.Her life, you understand. It's very fragile. The Stepsons might take her.Hawkmasks use her only to talk to Stepsons. Right now they're not talking atall. Not to these. Not to stupid men who've thrown away every alliance bettermen had made. Moruth, too - Moruth the beggar knows your name. And hers. Heremembers the fire, and you, and her, and it's a guess where he casts the blame- as if he needed an excuse at any time. What will you pay for my help? Whatcoin do you have, Mor-am?'

'What do you want?'

'Whatever. Whenever. That does change. As you can. Never forget that, hear? Theyname me vampire. Not quite the case - but very close. And they will tell you so.Does that put you off, Mor-am? Or is there worse?'

He grew brave then and kissed her on the lips.

'0 be very careful,' she said. ' Very careful. There will be times - when I tellyou go, you do not question me. Not for your life, Mor-am, not for your soul,such as it is.' Another kiss, lighter than all the rest. 'We shall go do theStepsons a favour, you and I. We shall go walking - oh, here and there tonight.I need amusement.'

'They'll kill me on the street.'

She smiled, letting him go. 'Not with me, my friend. Not while you're with me.'She turned away, gathering up her cloak, looked back again. 'It's widely saidI'm mad. A beast, they call me. Lacking self-control. This is not so. Do youbelieve me?'