He lit a cigarette (one of the reasons he had established a clandestine commerce), having found the dayside custom a pleasant thing, as well as a difficult habit to break. He was watching its smoke mingle with that of a candle and climb toward the ceiling, when Stab-a man-bat-man reconversion, who had become his personal servant- entered and halted at the prescribed distance.

"Lord?" he said.

"Yes?"

"There is an old crone at the gates who has asked to speak with you."

"I haven't sent for any old crones. Tell her to go away."

"She said that you had invited her."

He glanced at the small, black man, whose lengthy limbs and antenna-like plumes of white hair above an abnormally long face gave him a multi-tactic, insect-like appearance; he respected him, for he had once been an accomplished thief who had attempted to rob the former Lord of this place.

"Invitation? I recall no such thing. What was your impression of her?"

"She had the stink of the west upon her, sir."

"Strange..."

"...And she requested that I tell you it's Rosie."

"Rosalie!" said Jack, lowering his feet from his desk and sitting upright. "Bring her to me, Stab!"

"Yes, sir," said Stab, backing away, as always, from any sudden display of emotions on his Lord's part.

Jack flicked an ash into the skull and regarded it.

"I wonder if you're coming around yet?" he mused. "I've a feeling you may be."

He scribbled a note, reminding himself to inflict several companies of men with severe head colds and set them to patrolling the Dung Pits.

He had emptied the skull and was straightening the papers on his desk when Stab escorted her into the room. Rising, he glanced at Stab. who departed quickly.

"Rosalie!" he said, moving toward her. "It is so good..."

She did not return his smile, but accepted the seat he offered, nodding.

Gods! She does look like a broken mop, he decided again, remembering. Still... It's Rosalie.

"So you have finally come to Shadow Guard," he said. "For that bread you gave me long ago, you shall always be well fed. For the advice you gave me, you will always be honored. You shall have servants to bathe you and dress you and wait upon you. If you wish to pursue the Art, I will instruct you in higher magics. Whatever you wish, you need but ask for it. We shall have a feast for you-as soon as it can be prepared! Welcome to Shadow Guard!"

"I did not really come to stay, Jack, just to look at you again-in your new gray garments and fine black cloak. And what shiny boots! You never used to keep them that way."

He smiled.

"I don't do as much walking as I once did."

"...Or skulking about either. No need for that now," she said. "So you've got yourself a kingdom, Jack-the largest I know of. Are you happy with it?"

"Quite happy."

"So you went to the machine that thinks like a man, only faster. The one I warned you about. Isn't that so?"

"Yes."

"...And it gave you The Key That Was Lost, Kolwynia."

He turned away, groped for a cigarette, lit it and inhaled. He looked at her then and nodded.

"But it is a thing I do not discuss," he said.

"Of course, of course," she said, nodding. "With it, though, you obtained power to match ambitions you once did not even know you possessed."

"I would say that you are correct."

"Tell me of the woman."

"What woman?"

"I passed a woman in the hall, a lovely thing, dressed all in green to match her eyes. I said hello and her mouth smiled at me, but her spirit walked behind her weeping. What have you done to her, Jack?"

"I did what was necessary."

"You stole something from her-1 know not what-as you have stolen from everyone you have known. Is there anyone you count as friend, Jack? Anyone from whom you have taken nothing but given something?"

"Yes," he replied. "He sits atop Mount Panicus, half of stone and half I know not what. Many times have I visited him and tried with all my powers to free him. Yet even the Key has proven insufficient."

"Morningstar..." she said. "Yes, it is fitting that your one friend should be the accursed of the gods."

"Rosie, why do you chastise me? I am offering to make up in any way that I can for what you have suffered on my account or any other."

"That woman I saw... Would you restore her to whatever she was before you stole from her-if that was what I most desired of you?"

"Perhaps," said Jack, "but I doubt you would ask it. Were I to do so, I feel that she would be hopelessly mad."

"Why?"

"Because of things she has seen and felt."

"Were you responsible for these things?"

"Yes, but she had them coming."

"No human soul deserves the suffering I saw walking behind her."

"Souls! Talk to me not of souls! Or of suffering either! Are you boasting that you have a soul and I do not? Or do you think I know nothing of suffering myself?-You are correct, though, in your observation concerning her. She is part human."

"But you have a soul, Jack. I brought it with me."

"I am afraid I do not understand..."

"You left yours behind in the Dung Pits of Glyve, as all darksiders do. I fetched yours out, though, in case you wanted it one day."

"You are joking, of course."

"No."

"Then how did you know it was mine?"

"I am a Wise Woman."

"Let me see it."

He mashed out his cigarette while she undid her parcel of belongings. She withdrew a small object wrapped in a piece of clean cloth. She opened the cloth and held it in the palm of her hand.

"That thing?" he said; and he began to laugh.

It was a gray sphere which began to brighten with exposure to the light, first becoming shiny and mirror-like, then translucent; colors began to shift across its surface.

"It's just a stone," he said.

"It was with you on your awakening in the Pits, was it not?"

"Yes. I had it in my hand."

"Why did you leave it behind?"

"Why not?"

"Was it not with you each time that you awakened in Glyve?"

"What of it?"

"It contains your soul. You may wish to be united with it one day."

"That's a soul? What am I supposed to do with it? Carry it around in my pocket?"

"You could do better than leave it on a pile of offal."

"Give it to me!"

He snatched it from her hand and stared at it.

"That's no soul," he said. "It is a singularly unattractive piece of rock, or perhaps the egg of a giant dung beetle. It even smells like the Pits!"

He drew his arm back to hurl it from him.

"Don't!" she cried. "It's your-soul..." she finished softly, as it struck against the stone wall and shattered.

Quickly, he turned his head away.

"I might have known," she said. "None of you really want them. You least of all. You must admit that there was something more to it than a simple stone or an egg or else you would not have acted with such instant rage. You sensed something personal and threatening about it. Didn't you?"

But he did not answer her. He had slowly turned his head in the direction of the broken thing and he was staring. She followed his gaze.

A misty cloud had emerged from the thing, spreading upward and outward. Now it hovered above it. It had ceased its movement and had begun to take color. As they watched, the outline of a man-like form began to appear.

Fascinated, Jack continued to stare as he saw that the deepening features were his own. It took on more and more of the appearance of solidity until it seemed that he regarded a twin.

"What spirit are you?" he inquired, his throat dry.

"Jack," it replied weakly.

"I am Jack," he said. "Who are you?"

"Jack," it repeated.

Turning to Rosalie, he snarled, "You brought it here! You banish it!"

"I cannot," she said, running a hand through her hair, then dropping it to her lap, where it joined the other and began a wringing motion. "It is yours."