No one else on earth would have dared hand the little wizard a straight line like that. But Sahra was Sahra. She did not have to pay the price.

I started to leave. I had other things to do. Tobo asked, “Is it all right if I show your Annals to Murgen? He wants to read them.”

“You two starting to get along now?”

“I think so.”

“Good. You can let him see them. Tell him not to be too critical. If he is, I won’t come out there and dig him up.”

Narayan seemed thoroughly puzzled by my continued interest. I do not believe he remembered me at all. But he now knew that I was female and had been the young man Sleepy that he had encountered, only rarely, ages ago.

“You’ve had time to reflect. Have you decided to help us yet?”

He looked at me with pure venom, yet without obvious personal hatred. I was just a particularly unpleasant obstacle delaying the inevitable triumph of his goddess. He had gotten his mind back into a rut.

“All right. I’ll see you again tomorrow night. Your son Aridatha has a leave day coming up. We’ll bring him around to visit you.”

There was a guard watching the Daughter of Night. “What’re you doing here, Kendo?”

“Keeping an eye on-”

“Go away. And don’t come back. And spread the word. Nobody guards the Daughter of Night. She’s too dangerous. Nobody even goes near her unless Sahra or I tell them to. And then they don’t do it alone.”

“She don’t look-”

“She wouldn’t, would she? Start hiking.” I went to the cage. “How long would it take for your goddess to create all the right conditions for the birth of another like you? If I decide to kill you?”

The girl’s gaze rose slowly. I wanted to cringe away from the power in her eyes but I held on. Maybe she should be getting even more opium than she was already.

“Reflect upon your value. And upon my power to destroy it.” I felt puffed up. That was the kind of thing the devas, or lesser gods, blathered at one another on the fringes of the epics spun by the professional storytellers.

She glared. There was so much power in her eyes that I decided Kendo ought to spend a little time in private with Goblin and One-Eye, making sure he had not been taken in already.

“I think that without you there never will be a Year of the Skulls. And I know that you’re still alive only because I want something from Narayan, who loves you like a father.” Singh was her father, for all practical purposes. Croaker had been denied the chance by cruel Fortune. Or, more accurately, by the will of Kina.

“Keep well, dear.” I left. I had a lot of reading to get done. And some writing if I got the chance. My days were always full and all too often they got confused. I decided to do things, then forgot. I told others to do things, then forgot that, too. I was beginning to look forward to the time when our successes-or sufficiently spectacular failures-forced us out of town. I could sneak off somewhere where nobody knew me and just loaf for a few months.

Or for the rest of my life if I wanted.

I had no trouble understanding why every year a few more of our brothers gave up and faded away. I only hoped a little notoriety would bring them back.

I studied the pages Sahra had brought out for me but the translation was difficult, the subject matter was uninspiring, and I was tired. I kept losing my concentration. I thought about Master Santaraksita. I thought about going back up to the Palace, armed. I thought about what Soulcatcher would do now that she knew she did not have us trapped inside the Thieves’ Garden. I thought about getting old and being alone and had a suspicion that that fear might have something to do with why some brothers remained with the Company no matter what. They had no other family.

I have no other family.

I will not look back. I am not weak. I will not relax my self-control. I will persevere. I will triumph over myself and will conquer all adversity.

I fell asleep rereading my own recollections of what Murgen had reported about the Company’s adventure on the glittering plain. I dreamed about the creatures he had encountered there. Were they the rakshasas and nagas of myth? Did they have anything to do with the shadows, or with the men who evidently created the shadows from hapless prisoners of war?

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I told Sahra as she and Tobo and I started the long walk. “You’re sure the shadows are all off the streets?”

“Quit fussing, Sleepy. You’re turning into an old woman. The streets are safe. The only monsters out here are human. We can handle those. You’ll be safe in the Palace if you just stick to your character. Tobo will be safe as long as he remembers that he’s not really Shikhandini and desperate for his mother to keep her job. It’s in the nature of men like Jaul Barundandi that they do their bullying inside your head, not physically. They’ll take ’no’ for an answer. And I won’t lose my job over it. My work is being noticed by others. Especially by Barundandi’s wife. Now, get yourself into character. Tobo, you too. You particularly. I know Sleepy can do this when she concentrates on it.”

Tobo was clad as a budding young woman, Minh Sub-redil’s daughter, and I hoped we could get him back inside the warehouse unnoticed by Goblin and One-Eye, because they would ride him mercilessly. With the investment of a little artifice on his mother’s part, Tobo made a very attractive young woman.

Jaul Barundandi thought so, too. Minh Subredil was the first worker called forward and Barundandi never bothered with his customary grumble about taking Sawa as part of the package.

Sawa had trouble keeping a straight face later when we found Barundandi’s wife Narita waiting to pick women to work for her. One glance at Shiki was enough. Minh Sub- redil’s family definitely belonged under her direct supervision.

Minh Subredil had done a good job of ingratiating herself with Narita. For the very good reason that Narita was in charge of cleaning those parts of the Palace of most immediate interest to us.

Sawa had not worked for Narita in the past. Subredil explained Sawa to Narita, who seemed more patient than she had the few times I had seen her before. Narita said, “I understand. There’re plenty of simple things that need doing. The Radisha was particularly restless last night. These days when she has trouble sleeping, she breaks things and makes messes.”

The woman actually sounded sympathetic. But the Taglian people loved their ruling family and seemed to feel that they deserved more room than the man on the street. Perhaps because of the burdens they bore, always in the past with maximum respect for Rajadharma.

Subredil maneuvered me into a spot whence I could observe well without being noticed. She and Narita brought me several brass treasures that needed cleaning. The ruling family had to be very fond of brass. Sawa cleaned tons of it. But Sawa could be trusted not to damage anything.

Shiki came to me and asked, “Will you take care of my flute for me, Aunt Sawa?” I took the instrument, studied it briefly, pasted on an idiot grin and tooted on the thing a few times. Just so everybody would know it was a real flute and not imagine that it might be a small fireball thrower, capable of making life both brief and painful for the first half-dozen people who got too close to a flautist in a bad temper.

Barundandi’s wife asked Shiki, “You play the flute?”

“Yes, ma’am. But not very well.”

“I was quite a skilled player when I was a girl...” She noticed her husband peeking in for the second time this morning and began to suspect he was interested in more than just the progress of the day’s work. “Subredil, I don’t think it’s wise for you to bring your daughter here.” And a moment later, she growled, “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to talk to that man. I have to straighten him out.”