Ord stood, pleased with himself. "That's one less of those murdering bags of filth that we have to-"

"Shut up," Myrmeen said, her chest heaving. Ord fell silent in surprise, a hurt expression clouding his features. He had stopped Myrmeen from getting to Krystin and she had nearly been killed because of him. Krystin, however, had not died. She had performed like a warrior. Myrmeen turned to her daughter. "I'm very proud of you."

Krystin was speechless. Myrmeen shook her head and added, "Come on. We have to see to the others."

Suddenly a high-pitched scream erupted from the opposite side of the court. Myrmeen looked up and noticed that, except for the men who had started fights with other humans, the number of people at the Lathe had thinned out considerably. She was able to see two nondescript men standing near a heavy bag glowing blue-white. The first man looked down at his hands as if they had betrayed him. Collapsing to his knees before the bag, the man slumped forward and landed to the parcel's side. His partner, a heavier man who carried a recently blooded broadsword, looked down at the bag in alarm. When a tongue of green fire cut through the heavy sack and licked at the air before the second man's face, he turned and ran.

"The gauntlet," Myrmeen whispered as she futilely scanned the area for signs of Shandower, Reisz, or Lucius. She assumed that if the Night Parade somehow had gained possession of Shandower's weapon, they had taken it from his corpse. If that were the case, she would need the arcane weapon to ensure her friends' safety as they retreated from Calimport and sought the Harpers in Berdusk for assistance. Her words were strident as she commanded, "Follow me."

Although many of the eatery's patrons had left the area, a large number had remained and had formed a circle of spectators, settling less than two hundred yards away. From their vantage, they could see all that transpired without exposing themselves to danger. Myrmeen looked at the members of the crowd, the quick-tempered fighters who had started a handful of brawls and continued to battle even now, oblivious to all else, and even the eatery's staff, who had come from the kitchen to watch the proceedings with interest. She knew that every person in the area could be a Night Parade abomination in human form.

A figure appeared before her. She raised her sword instinctively, then lowered it again as she saw the look of concern in the eyes of the boy whose hair was the color of sawdust.

"Alden," Myrmeen said in relief. The young man seemed unhurt, despite the flecks of blood on his shirt. Lucius had been with Alden, and memories of the mage rescuing them from the ambush behind the counting house flooded her mind. "Where's Lucius?"

Alden shook his head and glanced at the earth. "Dead."

The news struck her hard. Myrmeen thought of her private talk with Lucius and the revelation that he had a family that even the Harpers apparently knew nothing about. Who would tell them? she thought, and who would be there to comfort his children when they woke in the night? Myrmeen forced such thoughts away. She could not deal with them now. "Where's his body?" she asked. "I don't know," Alden replied innocently. "Alden, we have to take Shandower's weapon and leave. Have you seen Erin or Reisz?" "I haven't," Alden said, lying expertly. Krystin touched Myrmeen's arm. "The glove was fused to his arm. If that's the glove, then his hand is still-" "I know," Myrmeen said in disgust, "but it has to be done." Breaking from the others, Myrmeen closed the distance separating her from the gauntlet, which had become encased in a sphere of blue-white energy that crackled with strands of green fire. The power within the glove was blossoming out of control, and Myrmeen realized that Shandower had not been summoning the power, but had been holding it in check. She knelt before the weapon. The glove was empty. If they had taken his arm to separate him from the gauntlet, no trace of meat or bone remained. Myrmeen was afraid that her own flesh would melt away if she touched the arcane weapon, then decided that she had no choice if she was going to safeguard her daughter's life.

She reached out and touched the glowing metal. It was warm, but it did not burn her. Snatching the weapon from the ground, she turned and motioned for the others to follow.

"Alden, do you know a place where the Night Parade will not follow? They know about you now. It must be a place you would not normally go."

"Yes," he said absently. "I can think of a place." She took a step in his direction and he moved back suddenly, absently cutting a glance at the weapon in her hands. Krystin and Ord had not moved at all. Alden shuddered as he looked around. "I suppose we should get out of here before more of those things arrive."

"Hold this for me," Myrmeen said to Alden, her instincts alerting her that something was very wrong with the young man. She held out the gauntlet, and Alden shrank away, raising his hand before his face.

"Go on," Krystin urged. "Take it. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alden said softly, sweat breaking out on his pale skin. A blanket of ochre hung above the city, beneath the clouds, and a soft breeze had gathered at the companions' backs. Alden ground his hands together. "I don't want to touch it. I'm afraid."

"Why should you be afraid?" Ord asked, suspicious.

Unexpectedly, Alden ran, waving his right hand over his head. He was signaling someone, Myrmeen realized. She heard shouts and turned her attention to the crowd that had gathered nearby. A dozen men dressed in the armor of the local guard broke through the crowd, ordering them to disperse or face a penalty. The crowd broke up swiftly and the soldiers shouted a command that Myrmeen did not recognize as they broke into a dead run, charging at Myrmeen with weapons drawn. She turned to run and saw a half dozen men who had been fighting at another table standing close, bows drawn, arrows nocked.

They were trapped. Alden had stopped less than twenty yards from the group. He watched his former allies with his lips pressed together, his hands wringing anxiously, his expression dark and cold.

"This could have been simple," he said. "Why didn't you just go along? They promised it would be quick, no pain. But they needed a human to carry the glove."

His fingers were twitching so quickly that they had become a blur. Alden shifted back and forth on his heels, moving with such incredible speed that he seemed to wink out of existence in one position and reappear in another. His teeth chattered, and his body shook with his inner conflict. He struggled not to say the words that had been left in his mind by Lord Sixx, but failed.

"My masters have instructed me to give you a message before you die," he said. "Death is only the beginning. We will take your souls and they will live on in torments worse than any found in Cyric's kingdom."

"Bastard!" Krystin shouted as she flung herself at Alden. Ord grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back, noticing the bloody gash in her arm for the first time. The soldiers were coming closer.

Ord glared at the young man. "What about your fancy words-sticking with your own kind?"

Alden smiled. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

Myrmeen thought of the ceremony they had performed, with all the Harpers touching the gauntlet. Alden had revealed himself afterward and had never touched the weapon.

The blond youth's expression suddenly changed. His cruel sneer dropped away and was replaced by a desperate, frightened look. "I only learned of my true blood today," he said in a strangled cry before he turned and ran off, leaving them to face their enemies alone.

"We're going to die here," Ord said without emotion.