"Where-where are they?" Ord stammered, looking back to the building, which already belched clouds of black smoke.

"They loved you very much," Myrmeen said. Then she struck him in the solar plexus, just beneath the rib cage, with the stiffened fingers of her right hand. He collapsed in a heap, and Reisz loaded him onto his mount, securing him quickly as he eyed the burning building, expecting a new host of monstrosities to erupt at any time. Shandower took the first of two mounts that had been left behind by the deaths of Myrmeen's friends, and said, "I know a place."

"Show us," Myrmeen said.

The Harpers rode out, Myrmeen taking one last look at the remains of her childhood quarters before she quietly followed the others to safety.

Alden McGregor had not anticipated a journey of discovery when he first began to shadow the Lhal woman and her companions. Their detour to the Knight's Kitchen for a last meal in the city before their long journey had not seemed out of line. Even the stopover at the Tower Arms had appeared innocuous enough at the outset; after all, they were pointed in the correct direction, riding toward the city gates. Then he heard the sounds of battle. From the vantages he secretly had taken, including a position outside the steellike glass of the east wing's first floor window, Alden had received his first taste of a world completely alien to his own, a world that apparently had existed side by side with his for a frighteningly long time. When the building was left a flaming ruin, Alden was relieved. There were monsters in Calimport, entire lairs of nightmarish creatures unlike anything he had seen except in his dreams. The past week he had dreamt that eyes were watching him, hard, flat eyes that stared at him as if he were nothing more than carrion. The eyes had grown from the walls in his dreams, burst from his flesh, and hung before him in the mists and shadows that pervaded his nightmares. They always appeared in sets of three pairs, a total of six eyes each time. A voice had accompanied his most recent dreams, a finely cultured voice that reverberated with power.

"You know," the voice said enigmatically, "don't you?"

Alden never thought much about his dreams, but after witnessing the battle at the Tower Arms, he had begun to wonder if demons could escape the dream world.

The blond teenager had followed Lhal and her people from the burning building. They had ridden for close to an hour, snaking through forgotten paths in the city, until they came to a one-story stone edifice. The building once had been a sewing shop, where dozens of women had sweated out the day to weave cheap imitations of fine clothing. One day the authorities had learned of the shop and closed it down. The place also had been a warehouse for a time, until fire had destroyed the contents several times over. Currently it sat vacant, the locals claiming that it was accursed. Alden smiled. A little bad luck and any location would be proclaimed as such. His mentor, Pieraccinni, had taught him that, and also that men make their own luck.

The long-haired man with the strange, arcane gauntlet had led Myrmeen and her companions through a side entrance to the building. Alden had sat in the darkening alley for a time, waiting for them to come out. When they did not, he decided it was time to return to the Gentleman's Hall and give a full report.

Before nightfall he was back on the docks, indulging himself at the expense of the many guards Pieraccinni employed as he circumvented their best efforts to keep out intruders. Distracting the forty-year-old mercenary at the kitchen entrance by preying upon his sole weakness, a fondness for cats, Alden watched the tabby he had lifted from a gutter several blocks away mewl piteously as the man bent down and fed it some kitchen scraps. He had slipped past the man and was inside the building so easily that the game was losing its allure.

Alden weaved through the service hallways and tunnels until he reached the private door that only he and Pieraccinni's ladies of the moment were allowed to use. He heard voices from inside Pieraccinni's rooms and was about to turn around when he recognized one of the voices. "You know," it said, "don't you?"

Alden froze. The voice was the one from his nightmares. A part of him wished to turn and run from the Gentleman's Hall, but another more curious and insistent voice within him urged the young man to carefully open the marble door a crack and peak inside.

He saw Pieraccinni kneeling before a tall man with a black widow's peak, angular features, and a trim, athletic body. The man was cloaked in black leather and gray steel. There were three sets of eyes in his head, one set above and below the natural pair, allowing him to look to the front and each side at all times. Clusters of six eyes appeared throughout his body. He had three sets of eyes on each arm and leg, three on each breast, and six on his back. His clothing had been designed to protect his many eyes, with holes cut out to allow the eyes vision and hard crystal of many colors protecting the vulnerable orbs.

Alden wondered if the man had been born with so many eyes or if he had acquired them from his victims. His curiosity made him ponder what function each of the various sets of eyes performed.

He watched as the tall man reached for one of the strange, edged weapons at his waist and drew the blade slowly, the metal scraping its scabbard. Pieraccinni looked up, sweat exploding on his bald head as he stared at the jagged, curved knife. His master touched one of the three gems on the hilt, causing the two flat metal surfaces that made up the knife to separate. A thin strand of wire sprang upward from between the deadly blades.

Alden tried to imagine the damage such a weapon could perform if it were already inside a victim.

"You know, don't you?" the man repeated as he gestured with the knife. "What dreams may come? Dreams of darkness and death from which you may never wake, or prosperous dreams of wealth, power, and women of such great beauty and talent that you would never wish to wake. The latter is what I have given you. I could take it away in an instant."

"Please, Lord Sixx. I meant no disrespect."

"Pieraccinni," the one called Sixx said with a knowing smile. "How long do you think this life of yours would last if everyone were able to look through my eyes? If they could see past your illusions and know you for what you truly are?"

Lord Sixx waved the knife. From his hiding place Alden winced and felt a sudden wave of nausea as the scene before him suddenly changed. Pieraccinni was no longer a man. His skin was dark blue, with red and green veins visible beneath the surface. The merchant's head was oblong, with tiny, heavily hooded eyes, a small mouth, and pulsating openings along his neck to allow for the intake of air. The man's body had a roughly human shape, but his flesh quivered like a jellyfish under tremendous pressure beneath the ocean. Alden clamped his hand over his mouth as Lord Sixx waved his knife a second time and Pieraccinni changed back to a man.

"I will tell you anything," Pieraccinni blubbered.

"Of course you will. That is your duty and your compulsion to he who commands the Night Parade," Sixx said as he looked down and sighed. "Get off your knees. I'm tired of looking at your bald head."

The merchant of arms and men did as he was commanded.

"Tell me about the Lhal woman," Lord Sixx said.

"She has been dealt with. She will trouble us no further," Pieraccinni mewled.

"That's what you said the last time. Now four of our number have died and two more have disappeared."

"Zandler and Crolus have always been unreliable. I will ask Imperator Zeal to discipline them when they return."