The big mirror glimmered balefully from the wall, challenging him.

Even from across the room, Lalo could see himself reflected - a short man withthinning, gingery hair, tending to put on weight around the middle though hislegs were thin; a man with haunted eyes and stubby, paint-stained hands. But itwas not his reflection empty-handed that frightened him. The thing he feared washis own image copied on to a canvas, if he should dare to face the mirror withpaintbrush in hand.

A shout from the street startled him and he went softly to the window, but'itwas only someone chasing a cutpurse who had mistaken their cul-de-sac for ashortcut between Slippery Street and the Bazaar. The strangeness of life inSanctuary since the Beysib invasion, or infestation, or whatever it should becalled, gave simple theft an almost nostalgic charm.

Lalo gazed out over the jumble of roofs to the blue shimmer of the harbour andan occasional flash where the sun caught the gilding on a Beysib mast. Ils knewthe Beysib were colourful enough, with their embroidered velvets and jewels thatput a sparkle in even Prince Kitty-Cat's eye, but Lalo had not been asked topaint any of them so far. Or to paint anything else, for that matter - not forsome time now. Until the good folk of Sanctuary figured out how to transfer someof their new neighbours' wealth into their own coffers, no one was going to haveeither the resources or the desire to hire Sanctuary's only notable nativeartist to paint new decorations in their halls. Lalo wondered if Enas Yorl'sgift to him would work on a Beysib. Did the fish-eyes have souls to be revealed?

Without willing it, Lalo found himself turning towards the mirror again.

'Lalo!'

Gilla's voice broke the enchantment. She filled the doorway, frowning at him,and he flushed guiltily. His preoccupation with the mirror bothered her, but shewould have been more than bothered if she had known why it fascinated him so.

'I'm going shopping,' she said abruptly. 'Anything you want me to get for you?'

He shook his head. 'Am I supposed to be watching the baby while you're gone?'

Alfi thrust past her flowing skirts and looked up at his father with brighteyes.

'I'm t'ree years old!' said Alfi. 'I a big boy now!'

Lalo laughed suddenly and bent to ruffle the mop of fair curls. 'Of course youare.'

Gilla towered above him like the statue of Shipri All-Mother in the old temple.'I'll take him with me,' she said. 'The streets have been quiet lately, and heneeds the exercise.'

Lalo nodded and, as he straightened, Gilla touched his cheek, and he understoodwhat she could so rarely manage to put into words, and smiled.

'Don't let the fish-eyes gobble you up!' he replied.

Gilla snorted. 'In broad daylight? I'd like to see them try! Besides, our Vandasays they're only people like ourselves, for all their funny looks, and servingthat Lady Kurrekai, she should know. Will you trust Bazaar tales or your owndaughter's word?' She backed out of the doorway, hoisted the child on to onebroad haunch, and scooped up the market basket.

The building shook beneath Gilla's heavy tread as she went down the stairs, andLalo moved back to the window to see her down the street. The hot sunlightgilded her fading hair until it was as bright as the child's.

Then she was gone, and he was alone with the mirror and his fear.

A man called Zanderei had asked Lalo if he had ever painted a self-portraitwhether he had ever dared to find out if the gift the sorcerer Enas Yorl hadgiven him of painting the truth of a man would enable him to make a portrait ofhis own soul. In return, Lalo had given Zanderei his life, and at first he hadbeen so glad to be alive himself that he did not worry about Zanderei's words.Then the Beysib fleet had appeared on the horizon, with the sun strikingflame from their mastheads and their carven prows, and no one had had leisureto worry about anything else for awhile. But now things were quiet and Lalo hadno commissions to occupy him, and he could not keep his eyes from the mirrorthat hung on the wall.

Lalo heard a dog barking furiously in the street and two women squabbling in thecourtyard below and, more faintly, the perpetual hubbub of the Bazaar; but hereit was very still. A stretched canvas sat ready on his easel - he had beenplanning to spend this morning blocking out a scene of the marriage of Ils andShipri. But there was no one else in the house now - no one to peer through hisdoorway and ask what he thought he was doing - no one to see.

Like a sleepwalker, Lalo lifted the easel to one side of the mirror, positionedhimself so that the light from the window fell full on his face, and picked upthe paintbrush.

Then, like a lover losing himself for the first time in the body of his beloved,or an outmatched swordsman opening his guard to his enemy's final blow, Lalobegan to paint what he saw.

Gilla heaved the basket of groceries on to the table, rescued the sack of flourfrom the child's exploring fingers, and poured it into the bin, then found awooden spoon for Alfi and set him down, where he began to bang it merrilyagainst the floor. She stood for a moment, still a little out of breath from thestairs, then began to put her other purchases away.

It did not take long. The influx of Beysib had strained Sanctuary's food supply,and their wealth had sent prices climbing, and though Gilla had hoarded a fairamount of silver, there was no telling how long it would be until Lalo wasworking regularly again. So it was back to rice and beans for the family, withan occasional fish in the stew. Now that so many new ships had been added to thelocal fleet, fish were the one item in ample supply.

Gilla sighed. She had enjoyed their affluence - enjoyed putting meat on thetable and experimenting with the spices imported from the north. But they hadsubsisted on coppers for more years than she liked to remember, and few enoughof those. She was an expert on feeding a family on peas and promises. They wouldsurvive the Beysib as they had survived everything else.

Alfi's short legs were carrying him determinedly towards the door to Lalo'sstudio. Gilla scooped him up and held him against her, still squirming, andkissed his plump cheek.

'No, love, not in there - Papa's working and we must leave him alone!'

But it was odd that Lalo had not at least called a welcome when he heard hercome in. When he was painting a sitter, Vashanka could have blasted the housewithout his noticing, but there had been no commissions for some time, and whenLalo painted for pleasure he was usually glad for an excuse to break off for acup of tea. She called to Latilla to take her little brother into the children'sroom to play, then coaxed a fire to life in the stove and put the kettle on.

Lalo still had not stirred.

'Lalo, love - I've got water heating; d'you want a cup of tea?' She stood for amoment, hands on hips, frowning at the shut, unresponsive door; then she marchedacross the floor and opened it.

'You could at least answer me!' Gilla stopped. Lalo was not at his easel. For amoment she thought he must have decided to go out, yet the door had not beenlocked. But there was something different about the room. Lalo was standing bythe far wall, for all the world like a piece of furniture. It took anothermoment for her to realize that he had not moved when she came in. He had noteven looked at her.

Swiftly she went to him. He stood as if he had backed across the room step bycareful step until he ran into the wall. The paintbrush was still clenched inone hand; she tugged it free and set it down. And still he did not move. Hiseyes were fixed, unseeing, on the easel across the room. She glanced at it - aman's face, and at this distance she saw nothing remarkable - then turned to himagain.