"I've always wished it was so," Serrin lied, knowing it was what the other elf wanted to hear. Magellan was kneeling on the floor beside him, virtually seeming to beseech him.

"You don't have to wish for it anymore, brother. It is. It is." No trideo evangelist had ever sounded more convinced.

That left Serrin with only one final thing he needed to know.

The streetlights had been shot out long ago and most of the buildings had collapsed into rubble. The place, which looked like the forgotten ruin of some war zone, was utterly unlike anything they'd seen in Azania until now, and the contrast was shocking. The cab crunched to a halt.

"I'm not going any farther," the ork driver told them. "I ain't replaced the bullet-proofing on my front side yet. Look, why don't you just let me take you somewhere nice, okay? Chips, dope, girls, boys, you name it. I know where it is. You're crazy fraggers to come down here."

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Michael asked Kristen, drawing his Predator. She nodded.

"I don't know why I do this," he said distractedly, handing the driver his money. "Look, chummer, will you wait somewhere reasonably close? A bonus of five hundred if you'll wait for one hour. If we don't come back, check the Imperial tomorrow morning. You get half that just for being here, even if you don't pick us up."

"You get killed, I don't get nothing while I sit here for an hour like a devil rat just waiting for the trap to snap," the ork replied.

Michael handed him another bill. "Down payment. Where will you be?"

"Two blocks back, before that last robot. That's as close as I'll get. Anyone takes a pot-shot at me and I'm gone."

"Deal." Michael opened the back door and Tom and Kristen piled out with him. The cab sped off, wheels screaming as it careened around the corner.

"He doesn't much like it around here," Tom joked.

"Me neither," Michael said, only partly reassured by the SMG in the troll's hands. "Kristen, if this doesn't work out, we're going to have macro trouble here."

"I told you. Indra has a cousin who has another cousin and the money was enough. They'll be here."

Exactly on cue, a group of figures began to take shape from out of the darkness of the surrounding street. There were a dozen of them, more or less. They weren't armed with weapons of any real quality, but they had enough. It

was the assault cannon that finally reassured Michael, and the pistol under his nose that made up his mind for him.

"Ten thousand, buttbram," the dwarf snarled at him. "Everything up front. You pay for any street doc work afterward. Anyone gets scragged, that's five thou per. For the family."

Well, it's the family that got us this crew, Michael thought. Even if I have to pay for it twice over, it's probably worth it. He handed over the envelope.

"Every last cent," he said evenly. The dwarf counted it slowly, his expression saying that he'd have loved to find it short of the full amount.

"So, where is this place?"

"This way," Tom said. He was drawn to it as easily as if someone had marked it with a neon sign.

"Let's say, let's just imagine," Magellan waxed on, "that there's someone who can make it happen. Let's say he's got a way of guaranteeing we elves can have it all. Let's just imagine that for a moment."

"I can't," Serrin said. He rubbed his hands together as if anguished by the disappointment of it. "I mean, how? That's what matters, isn't it?"

Magellan's eyes flared with suspicion for a split second. Serrin stared directly at him, as if desperate to say, yes, yes, it's good, it's what I want, I just wish I could believe in it, and I could if only I knew how it could be done. Believe me.

"Let's say," Magellan said slowly, "that there's a way of changing humans. Making them quieter. More docile. Easier to control. Something that could eliminate the stupid violence in them. A pacifier. No more war. No more destroying everything we build. Let's imagine that."

"A drug," Serrin wondered aloud.

"Better. A permanent fix. Forever. In the genes, brother."

"But I can't see "

"You don't have to see! All you have to do is believe," Magellan cried out. "It's true. It's real."

"I do believe you," Serrin said fervently, thinking it wiser not to express any more doubts. "But why am I

here? What has all this to do with finding out who tried to kidnap me? I mean, that's all I was after."

Magellan nodded, biting his bottom lip, obviously trying to decide what to say next.

"Look. The elf who tried to kidnap you amp; he has certain needs. Special requirements. You know all that. Do you think he likes what he does? Do you think he wants to kill his own? Oh, brother, it pains him. It's the last thing he wants to do. But he has no choice. He's burning up, he's got to feed, and there aren't many left. It's his last option. God, how he must suffer."

Serrin didn't know whether to laugh or scream with rage. Him suffer, whoever he was?

"But why try to stop me from?

"Because you want revenge. But that you can't have. Mustn't have," Magellan whispered, his face centimeters away. His eyes had a wild look, his face now a grotesque mask. He had underestimated Serrin; he'd thought that Luther could easily dispose of the elf mage if he got too close, but Serrin and his friends had moved too fast. What else had they arranged? "He's the wonder, brother. He's the one who did it, don't you see? He's so close now, it's only another day or two more. It's nearly time amp; He's the one who's got "

The detonation threw Serrin against the wall and sent Magellan flying across the floor. Serrin's head slammed against the concrete so hard that his vision blurred; he could just barely make out Magellan dragging himself to his feet and stumbling for the door. Too groggy even to stand upright, Serrin was powerless to stop the red-haired elf as he grabbed the door handle and staggered out into the darkness. Gunfire crackled outside, and another cannon round hammered into the building somewhere behind him. Serrin half-rolled, half-fell off the bed and tried to drag himself underneath the metal frame for cover.

Then he heard a familiar voice screaming "No!" just as the Zulu samurai appeared in the doorway. The Zulu had a machine gun in his hands and was looking around wildly, any moment about to spray the room with fire. Serrin tried to cast a barrier spell around himself to ward

off the hail of lead, but the pain in his head wouldn't let him. Frag me, I'm dead, he thought dully.

The Zulu had his finger three parts back on the trigger when the side of his neck suddenly exploded into a bloody flower, the red petals of flesh lazily unfolding themselves as his blood gushed up onto the wall. The gun rose upward in an unsteady arc, some of the bullets striking the ceiling, then ricocheting around the room. Serrin covered his head and prayed. When he heard the smack of the body hitting the floor, he opened one eye and looked out at the carnage.

This time it was a dwarf in a flak jacket who was forcing his way into the room. Nut-brown, grim-faced, he too was looking around for Serrin. Even more startling was that the dwarf was obviously Indian. By now, though, it wasn't the dwarf Serrin was seeing anymore. It was the girl slumped in the doorway, beginning to shake violently and still holding the pistol limply from her right hand.

"Here," Serrin called to the dwarf who pivoted to point his Roomsweeper at him. Serrin knew he wasn't going to get shot. He just wanted to get to her.

Kristen fell half to her knees, dropping the gun and starting to vomit just as he came up alongside her. Lifting her under the arms, Serrin hauled her up, hugging her so tightly he could hardly breathe. She couldn't speak. A, trickle of vomit dripped from her mouth onto his sleeve.

"It wouldn't make a smash-hit movie," the Englishman observed to the troll as the pair of them also entered the little room. Tom's huge hands were already busy getting a tourniquet around Michael's half-useless arm, which had saturated his sleeve with blood. The troll was sure he could heal it up pretty good, though. Better than he ought to be able to, maybe.