'Not so loudly, child,' the priest pleaded, remember, we survive on sufferance;we can have no suspicions.' He gestured to the mute, who went to the window andbegan playing a loud folktune on his pipes. 'We have no rights.' Taking Cythen'sarm, he ushered her into a cramped, windowless alcove, hidden behind one of histapestries.

Molin began to speak in a hoarse whisper. 'And keep quiet about this,' he warnedher. 'The Aphrodisia is the favourite gaming place of our new lords and masters,especially the younger, hot-headed ones. There's an element among them that doesnot appreciate the current policy of restraint. Remember, these people areexiles; they've just lost a war at home; they've got something to prove tothemselves. Sure, the older men say "Bide your time," "We'll go home nextyear, or the year after that, or the one after that." They weren't theones on the battlefields getting their asses kicked.

'The Beysa Shupansea listens to the old men, but now, with the murders of theirown people, she is becoming nervous herself. The clamour for a stronger hand isrising ...'

Molin was interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the outer door. 'Thepalace is a sponge,' he complained, and he was in a position to know the truth.'Wait here and stay quiet, for god's sake.'

Walegrin and Cythen pressed back into the shadows and listened to a loud,unintelligible conversation between Molin and one of the Beysib lords. They didnot need to understand the words; the shouts told them enough. The Beysib wasangry and upset. Molin was having small success at calming him down. Then theBeysib stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and Molin rushedback into the alcove.

'They want results.' He rubbed his hands together nervously, releasing the scentof the oils he used on his skin. 'Turghurt's out there calling for vengeance andhis people are listening. After all, no Beysib would kill another Beysib in sucha crude manner!' Molin's voice spewed sarcasm. 'I've got no great love for thenatives of this town but one thing they are not, to a man, woman or child ofthem - stupid enough to taunt the Beysib like this!'

Walegrin frowned. 'So they believe it's a Sanctuary man, or woman, behind it.But at least one of the bodies was found on the rooftops, right here, in thepalace compound. This place is guarded, Molin. We guard it; they guard it. We'dhave seen him, at least.'

'Exactly what I've told them. Exactly why I'm sure it isn't one of us. But no;they've been frightened. They're convinced the town is smouldering against them- they don't intend to be pushed any further and they're not about to listen tome.

'I figure it works this way: there are malcontents in this court just likeanywhere else. I knew the bulk of the hotheads congregated at the Aphrodisia. Ididn't think there was danger to it; I just meant to keep those young menwatched. Their leader is the eldest son of Terrai Burek, the Beysa's primeminister. And a child more unlike the father you can't imagine. It's no secretthe boy hates his father and would do anything to spite the old man - though Iexpect bullying the townspeople would come naturally to him anyway. Yet, thefather protects his son and the common laws of Sanctuary can't reach him.'

'You're talking about Turghurt, aren't you?' Walegrin asked, obviouslyrecognizing the name, though Cythen didn't recall having heard it before.'Still, Cythen's sister was killed by venom - and the Harka Bey are all women.'

'True enough, but if the Harka Bey is real then it's likely a number of otherthings are - like the rings with reservoirs for venom and razor-sharp blades tosimulate the fangs. They've told me the venom can't be isolated, but I don'tbelieve them now -'

'Who is this Terket Buger?' Cythen inquired, her thoughts warming to the idea ofa name and face she could blame and take vengeance upon. 'Would I recognizehim?'

'Turghurt Burek,' Walegrin corrected. 'Yeah, you've probably seen him. He's abig man, a troublemaker. Taller than most of the Beysib men here by a head ormore. He's a coward, I'm sure, because we can never find him alone. He's alwaysgot a handful of cronies around. We can't lay a hand on him anyway - though thistime we're talking about killing.' He looked hopefully to the priest.

'Not this time, either.'

They were once again interrupted by a hammering on the outside door and thesounds of masculine voices shouting in the Beysib language. Molin left thealcove to deal with the intrusion and fared worse this time than before. He wasroundly berated by two men who, it appeared, had made up their minds aboutsomething. The priest returned to the alcove, visibly shaken.

'It fits together now,' he said slowly. 'The boy has boxed us all. AnotherBeysib woman has been found dead - and mutilated, I might add - down by thewharf. Young Burek has played his hand masterfully. That was him, and hisfather, to tell me that the populace must be controlled or wholesale slaughterof the townsfolk will be on my conscience. The men of Bey will not see theirwomen defiled.'

'Turghurt Burek was here?' Cythen asked, her hands moving instinctively to herhip, where she usually wore her sword. She cursed herself for not having daredto lift the tapestry a fraction to see his face.

'The same, and he's convinced his father now as well. Walegrin, I don't know howyou'll do it, but you've got to keep the peace until I can get the old man tosee reason - or catch the murderers bloody-handed.' The priest paused, as if anidea had just occurred to him. He looked hard at Cythen and she fairly cringedfrom the plotting she saw in his face. 'Catch them bloody-handed! You - Cythen;how much do you want your revenge? What will you sacrifice to get it? Turghurtis full of himself, and he'll likely go back to the Aphrodisia to celebrate thisvictory. He hasn't been back since your sister died, but I doubt he'll wait muchlonger. If not tonight, then tomorrow night. He'll go back because he has togloat - and because his kind get no satisfaction from these high-handed Beysibwomen.

'Now, somehow your sister learned something she shouldn't have and died for it.Could you lure him into the same mistake and survive to let me know of it? I'llneed proof absolute if I'm going to confront his father. Not a corpse, youunderstand; that will only fan the flames. What I'll need is Turghurt and theproof. Can you get it for me?'

Cythen found herself nodding, promising the Rankan priest that she would get hervengeance as she got him his proof; as she spoke another hidden part of herselffroze into numb paralysis. The meeting had become a dream from which she couldnot seem to awaken: a continuation of all the nightmares that made her past sounpleasant to remember. Bekin was dead - but not gone.

She stood mute while the priest and Walegrin made their plans. Her silence wastaken for attentiveness, though she heard nothing above the screaming other ownthoughts. The priest patted her on the shoulder as she left his rooms, followingWalegrin into the forecourt again. Knots of Beysibs had gathered there, talkingamong themselves with their backs to the Sanctuary pair as they walked back tothe garrison. One of the men did turn to stare at her. He wasn't tall so hewasn't Turghurt, but all the same. the feel of the cold fish-eyes regarding herfinally loosened her tongue.

'Sabellia preserve me! I know nothing of Bekin's trade. I'm still a virgin!' Itwas as much of a prayer as she had muttered since her father went down with anarrow in his throat.

Walegrin stopped short, appraising her in surprise. 'You told me you'd worked onthe Street of Red Lanterns?'