Payment in Full

James Enge

"T he truth is my blood and breath, master: I cannot lie. I could sell either

the youth or the maiden for six fingers of silver in Menebacikhukh, that

benighted city of the Anhikh Komos where I was born. I will give you

three silver fingers for either of them, seven for both."

We were crossing the marketplace in Sarkunden when the slave­trader put a

long corpselike hand on one of Morlock Ambrosius' slightly uneven shoulders and

made his pitch. Before that day I'd never so much as seen the walls of a city this

big. From what I'd seen inside those walls, I didn't think I was going to like big

cities much, even before the slaver spoke to Morlock. As the maiden under dis­

cussion, I waited for Morlock's response with real interest.

Morlock shot a cold gray glance at the Anhikh slave­trader and pointed out,

"Buying or selling human beings has been illegal in the Ontilian Empire for more

than two hundred years."

"The contract would be unofficial, of course. I would trust to the honor I see

in your face, and perhaps, for form's sake, a guarantee placed in the hands of

some mutually reliable person."He let his eyes linger on me, stroking his lips in

an oddly salacious gesture.

"Is he a slaver or a con­man, Thend?"Morlock asked my brother. "What do

you say, Fasra?"he added, glancing at me.

"Whatever's creepier,"I said flatly.

"I might go as high as eight fingers of silver,"the Anhikh continued, "in spite

of the unfashionably dark color of their skin and their lack of manners. The lat­

ter would soon be mended, yes indeed it would. What do you say, master? What

is your response, your (shall we say) wholly unofficial response?"

"I am not your master,"was the first part of Morlock's unofficial response. The

second part left the slave­dealer on all fours, gasping with pain.

"Keeps,"Thend muttered to Morlock. Following his glance, I saw a couple of

armored figures approaching.

Morlock nodded, and paused his unofficial responses while the soldiers made

their way through the market crowd. They wore gear exactly like the City Guards

who stood at the gates, except they had the fist insignia on their shields: Keepers

of the Peace.

"No fighting in the Market,"the senior Keep said, as he came up. "You'll have

to come along."

"This man is a slaver,"Morlock said.

"So?"

"Slavery's illegal."

The Senior Keep scratched his face

and stared at Morlock for awhile. "I

guess it is,"he finally admitted.

"Technically. But this guy paid his mar­

ket­fee just like everyone else. What do

you want me to do about it?"

"Let's check his wagon."

The senior Keep shrugged and ges­

tured at the Anhikh. The junior Keep

dragged him to his feet and checked the

number on his market pass. We all

trooped over to the matching wagon. On

the outside brightly colored letters said

(in two languages I knew, and probably

others I didn't) that this was the roving

headquarters of the Perambulations of

Evanescent Joy and Portable Fun

Company. Inside, the wagon was one big

cage. When we dropped the back flap of

the wagon and let in the light, dozens of

eyes gleamed at us hopelessly through

the bars. The wagon was half full of chil­

dren of various ages, sizes, colorations

(fashionable and unfashionable).

"They're orphans,"the Anhikh slaver

said sullenly.

"There's no orphan exception to the

slavery law,"Morlock pointed out.

As the senior Keep hesitated,

Morlock forced the lock on the cage with

something he had in his pocket and

opened the door. The children, suddenly

mobile, streamed out and vanished into

the nearby alleys like water into sand.

The Anhikh muttered a few words

that sounded like curses.

"Cool it,"said the senior Keep. "Thanks to this gentleman you're a law­abiding

citizen again. Keep it that way, or the girls'll be calling you `Stumpy.'"

We left the Anhikh muttering imprecations over his broken lock. "Hey, pal,"said

the senior Keep to Morlock, "your face is sort of familiar. Didn't I cut your head off

once?"

"It seems unlikely."

"It seemed that way at the time, let me tell you. But this guy whose head I cut

off, or maybe didn't, he was an Imperial outlaw. You'll still have to come with me;

your young friends can go about their business."

Morlock silently handed the guard a piece of paper with a seal of dark blue wax

on it.

The senior Keep whistled as he read it. "An immunity. Signed by the Imperial

commander at Sarkunden, Vennon himself. Only good for one day, but it must have

been expensive."

"An associate acquired it for me."

"He must like you a lot."

"Not really."

The Keep tapped the seal with one finger. "This thing isn't actually valid, you

know. Commander Vennon, may he lick his own elbow, can't suspend the

Emperor's order of outlawry. I could still bring you in, or kill you on the spot."

"Could you?"Morlock wondered mildly.

"Uh."The Keep's face took on a remembering look. "Maybe not,"he admitted.

"Anyway, my skipper wouldn't half­bless me if I did. It'd bring down the market­

value for those temporary immunities, for one thing. My name's Thrennick --- no,

don't tell me yours, not when we're getting along so well. See you around sometime."

· · ·

We continued across the marketplace until we came to a place that proclaimed

itself, in a large banner, as CHARIS' DISCOUNT EMPORIUM OF DELUXE WON­

DERS. A smaller and wordier sign said, No job too large or too small! Satisfaction

guaranteed! Charis and his team of expert thaumaturges will not rest until --- The rest

was water­damaged and I couldn't read it, but I doubted I was missing much. A still

smaller but more convincing sign said firmly, No Credit.

We pushed our way inside. As my eyes were still adjusting to the dimness, the

shopkeeper rushed up to us, his blunt pale features stretched to display a some­

what oily professional friendliness.

"Honored sirs, young lady, what can we do for you?"

"You can bring me Charis,"Morlock said.

I could see reasonably well by now --- well enough to catch sight of a convincing

replica of Morlock's head staring down at us from a tall, tomblike display case. I

turned around to point it out to Thend, but he'd already noticed it.

"I am afraid that Charis sees no one, absolutely no one, unless it is absolutely

necessary,"the shopman purred. "It is one of his little ways. I am Stokkvenn, his

chief assistant master thaumaturge­in­training, and I can almost certainly meet

your needs. In all honesty, you might prefer to deal with me. Charis is a brilliant

man, the greatest wonder­worker of our establishment, but his manners are a tri­

fle --- Excuse me, sir, but have we not met before? I'm almost sure of it."

Morlock pointed at the head glaring down at us. Stokkvenn looked at it, back at

Morlock, and said, "Charis will be out to see you in a moment."

Stokkvenn disappeared into an inner room. Presently the same door opened and

another man emerged. He was almost the opposite of Stokkvenn --- tall, sharp­fea­

tured, somewhat distant in his manner. And he was pale --- Death and Justice was

he pale­skinned! At one time I'd thought Morlock was the whitest man in the world,

but next to him this other fellow was practically translucent: ice­white skin, yellow

hair and eyebrows, green squinting eyes.

"Morlock Ambrosius,"the newcomer said. "This is indeed a pleasure."If it real­

ly was a pleasure, his face didn't show it.

"Charis,"Morlock said.

"I hope --- At our last meeting --- K­k­k­k­k. Or quasi­meeting, rather ---"Charis'

face hardly moved as he spoke, but from his strange disjointed speech I gathered

he was terrified of Morlock.

"Do you have what I came for?"Morlock asked briskly. "If so, we need not con­

sider the past."

"Er. K­k­k­k­k. I have. That is, I have some of the information you asked for."

"Paid for."

"K­k­k­k­k. Yes. Quite. Indeed, I got it right away. But months have passed since

then, and I thought... K­k­k­k­k. Matters may have changed, you see. So I purchased

an update, at great expense and for your personal convenience."

"Then?"Morlock replied, stepping closer and looking intently at Charis' face.

"The messenger from the guard captain is due. K­k­k­k­k. Is due any moment.

Won't you wait, and --- k­k­k­k­k --- await him, as it were?"

"Hm,"said Morlock. He reached over and tore out one of Charis' eyeballs.

All right --- I admit it. I screamed. So did Thend, no matter what he says.

But, the funny thing is, Charis didn't scream. No blood poured from the empty

eye­socket. He just stood there, squinting with one eye and saying, "K­k­k­k­k. I

understand. K­k­k­k­k. Your impatience. K­k­k­k­k. Very understandable, even laud­

able, impatience. K­k­k­k­k ---"

Morlock turned toward us, displaying the eyeball in his hand. Except, now that I

brought myself to look at it, it didn't really look like an eyeball. More like a glassy imi­

tation of one. The black glittering shreds hanging from the back of the eyeball didn't

look like nerves, or anything that had grown inside a human body. Thend, obviously

nerving himself up, stepped forward to take the thing and look closer at it.

"It's glazed clay,"Morlock said with something like contempt in his voice. "The iris

is painted on!"Apparently that was bad.

He turned back to the thing he had called Charis and, drawing his knife, split it

open from collarbone to belly. I managed to keep from screaming this time, but only

barely. It was babbling all the while about "--- an investment --- k­k­k­k­k --- as it

were, in time, to pay off royally ---"but, increasingly, I couldn't look on the thing as

human. It stopped speaking and moving when Morlock drew something out of the gap

in its chest --- a scroll of some sort.

"It's not Charis,"he said. "It's a golem in Charis' image. Not Charis' own work,

clearly."

"You can tell?"I asked faintly.

"I taught Charis how to make a decent eyeball,"Morlock grumbled. He unrolled

the sheet in his hand and glanced at it, adding, "The life­scroll isn't in his handwrit­

ing. And the stupid thing couldn't even speak properly. Not the product of the estab­

lishment's greatest wonder­worker."

"But maybe,"I guessed, "the chief assistant master thaumaturge­in­training?"

"Exactly,"Morlock approved. "Thend: get him."

Death and Justice, that annoyed me. Sure, Thend was big and strong for his age

(almost fifteen). But I was about to point out that, just because I was twelve years old

and a girl, it didn't mean I couldn't slap someone like Stokkvenn around and make

him like it. Then I looked Morlock in the eye (those flaring gray irises were not paint­

ed on) and I decided it wasn't the strategic moment to say so.

"Fasra,"he said to me, "drop the brass shutter over the window, bolt it and stand

by the door. Here."He tossed me the knife in his hand and said, "We may have com­

pany soon."

I was tempted to ask who'd died and made him God. On the other hand, I'd

learned the hard way that sometimes it's smart to listen to someone who knows more

than you do. I bit my tongue and did as he asked. He busied himself behind the

counter, pulling things out of drawers and looking at them.

Pretty soon Thend appeared, dragging a squealing Stokkvenn behind him. "He

was trying to go out the back door,"Thend said to Morlock, and tossed the shopman

up against the counter in front of Morlock.

"You bolted it?"

"Yes."

"We may have guests. Will it

hold?"

Thend shrugged. "Not forev­

er."

Morlock turned to

Stokkvenn. "You wrote this,"he

said coolly, waving the life­scroll

of the dead golem.

"No. I ---"

"I'm not asking you; I'm

telling you that I know. You keep

the register here --- the ink is

still on your hands --- and the

life­scroll was written in the

same handwriting. You made

this golem of your employer.

Why?"

Stokkvenn quacked word­

lessly for a few moments and

finally said, "The Sandboys

made me do it."

If he'd said the Fluffy

Puppies I couldn't have been

more surprised. In my mind's

eye I pictured a Sandboy as a

friendly little figure made of

sand, sitting on a beach some­

where.

"Who are the Sandboys?"

Morlock asked.

"The Sandboys! The

Sandboys!"

"Yes: them. Who are they?"

"They're the biggest water­

gang in town, that's all! They

wanted to take over Charis'

business, but he wouldn't sell. It

got pretty ugly. Then the big

bucket of the Sandboys sent for

me and he said they were mov­

ing in, whether Charis liked it or

not. There was nothing I could

do about it. If I went along with

them, they'd keep me on to run

the business for them. I was

supposed to make the golem of

Charis to keep up appearances.

The gangs can't own businesses,

you know --- not legally."

"Fasra,"said Morlock, "is

there anyone outside?"

The shop was on the edge of

a marketplace of a big city on market day. Of course there was someone outside, and

I almost said so. But then I figured he meant someone in particular, so I had a look.

"Uh,"I said. "A bunch of guys with metal sticking out of their faces. They've got

swords and clubs and they're staring at the shop."

"The Sandboys,"Stokkvenn said, shrugging. He was a little more at ease, looking

Morlock in the eye now. Like he was thinking, Maybe you have my number, but some­

one else has yours.

"Stokkvenn,"said Morlock, "your story doesn't work."

Stokkvenn instantly lost whatever ground he'd gained. "It's all I know!"he cried.

"It's the truth!"

"It may be all you know, but it's not the truth. I was lured here with an authen­

tic looking message; either Charis or an excellent forger wrote it. It accompanied an

immunity­pass that must have taken a great deal of expense or effort to acquire. Why

would your Sandboys take the trouble?"

"I don't know! I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"Where is Charis, the real Charis, now?"

"I don't know. I think the Sandboys took him. He's probably dead."

"Unlikely. I think he's still alive, and someone wants me to lead them to him. Any

thoughts, Stokkvenn?"

"None. I'm sorry. I've told you all I can."

"Hm,"Morlock said. He dropped the life­scroll and vaulted over the counter.

"Unfortunately, I believe you."

"Unfortunately?"Stokkvenn repeated faintly, as Morlock took him by the shoul­

ders.

"Unfortunate for me,"Morlock said, "since all my questions are unanswered.

Unfortunate for you, because you are now useless to me."

Morlock nodded at me, and I swung the shop door wide.

"No,"Stokkvenn gasped.

"Coming out!"Morlock shouted, and threw Stokkvenn headfirst, stumbling into

the street. There were some shouts, and meaty thumps, and I heard Stokkvenn sob­

bing. A few moments later, when I peeked past Morlock out the door, Stokkvenn was

gone. I never learned whether he lived or died.

"Not fair, Crookback!"someone shouted. "You said you were coming out!"

"I didn't mean me,"Morlock called back. "Come in, if you like. I am Morlock

Ambrosius; I await you."

There was some audible grumbling at this. They'd have to come through the door­

way one at a time, and apparently they'd heard some stories about Morlock that made

them reluctant to try it. We'd only been traveling with Morlock a couple months, and

I could have told them some stories myself.

"We'll burn the place down!"someone shouted.

"So what?"Morlock replied easily. "I'll walk away in the flames, and you will not

follow me."

It was true that he could do that, but Thend and I couldn't. I hoped he was bluff­

ing and looked anxiously at Thend. He shrugged and grinned nervously.

Morlock shut the shop­door and barred it. He went over to the lifeless golem and

ripped its ears off. He did something to them --- I couldn't really see it in the shop's

dim light, and what I saw I couldn't understand --- and then he took one of them and

fixed it to the doorpost with a long shining thing like a glass nail.

"Find the roof door,"he said to Thend and me.

"Are you sure there is one?"I asked.

"I hope there is,"he said and turned back to the golem ears, muttering a few

words in a language I didn't know.

We found the roof door pretty quickly: it was a kind of a hatch in the ceiling of

the back room. We called Morlock and he came back, one of the ears still in his

hand. He handed it to me, thanks a lot, and climbed up the ladder to the roof hatch.

He unbolted it quietly and tentatively peeked out. It was sort of funny, or would

have been if I hadn't been holding a severed ear.

He lowered the hatch and dropped down to the floor. "Go on up to the roof,"he

said to us. "Stay low. I'll join you in a moment."

I was going to hand him his nasty ear back, but he'd already turned away. I fol­

lowed Thend up to the roof and we crouched low, to keep out of sight of the

Sandboys in the street before the shop (and, presumably, in the alley behind).

"Shut up,"Thend whispered to me.

"I'm not doing anything,"I whispered back.

"I heard you move and say something."

I'd heard the same thing, but it wasn't me. I held up the golem ear. Startled, he

put his ear against the thing and then gestured that I should do the same from the

other side.

We heard Morlock's voice as he moved around in the shop downstairs: "---

`blood of Ambrose' --- unlikely. This really might be phlogopos­juice, though. Yes.

That'll do."After a few moments the severed ear emitted a crackling sound.

I realized that he had somehow enchanted the golem ears. We were hearing

what the ear nailed to the shop door was hearing. This was what I thought, but

what I said was, "He talks to himself when he's alone!"

Thend shrugged. "Sure. He's almost completely crazy: hadn't you noticed?"

I told Thend something I'd noticed about him, and he was hotly denying it when

Morlock appeared through the hatch.

The Crooked Man pinned my brother with a single gray glance and Thend

snapped his mouth shut.

"Can you jump across to that roof?"Morlock asked Thend, pointing at nearest

building.

Thend nodded.

"Do it, then. If you think anyone on the street saw you leap, keep on going and

don't wait for us. We'll meet you back with Roble and Naeli. Got it?"

Thend nodded again.

"Then,"said Morlock.

Thend ran, crouching, across the roof of Charis' shop and leapt to the nearest

roof. He waited there, crouching. No one called out; no one seemed to have seen

him. He gestured that we should follow.

"Go,"said Morlock.

"Why are you so sure I can?"I asked.

He looked at me, surprised. "You can run faster and jump farther than any of

your brothers --- except Stador, perhaps. If Thend can do it, you can do it. Go."

I was mad. "I'm not one of your stupid golems!"I hissed.

He looked at me more carefully. "Fasra, I'm sorry to seem abrupt. I set fire to

Charis' shop after I sent you up here, and soon the gangsters will notice and risk

breaking in. We should be well away by then. So: go. Now."

"Take your nasty ear!"I whispered furiously, shoving it at him. I ran across the

roof and jumped to the next one. Morlock followed, holding the golem ear to one of

his own, looking solemn and ridiculous.

We had crossed a few more roofs when Morlock abruptly dropped the golem ear,

crushing it under his shoe. "They're breaking into Charis' shop,"he said. "We'll try

going down to street level here: they'll soon realize we escaped across the roofs."

He pulled up the roof hatch of the building we were on. He did it so casually, I

thought the thing was unbolted...

but then I saw the latch dangling

from the undrawn bolt. He dropped

down into the hatch and reached

up to help us down.

As my eyes were still adjusting

to the dimness within a big bulky

guy approached us and shouted at

Morlock, "Hey! Customers not

allowed on roof! Get out of here!

You two ---"he gestured at Thend

and me "--- get back to rooms."

I saw now that the walls were

covered in red velvet, and there

were some pungent odors assault­

ing my nose --- some sweet, some

less so. I'd worked as a housekeep­

er --- and that's all, by the way --- at

the village cathouse, so it was all

pretty familiar.

"Uncle Morlock,"I said, in a

high­pitched little­girl falsetto,

"what sort of place is this?"

The big bulky guy looked at me,

puzzled, and then back to Morlock.

"I beg your pardon for the

intrusion, and the damage to your

roof door,"Morlock said, present­

ing the big guy with a gold coin.

"Damage?"The big guy looked

at the broken latch and said, "Oh,

yeah."

He didn't seem too mad,

though, and he was even less so

when Morlock presented him with

a second gold coin.

A third coin made the guy pos­

itively beam with welcome. "No

problem!"he said. "Drop in any

time! Stay as long as you like! What

was name again?"

"Morlock Ambrosius. But we'll

have to leave immediately,"

Morlock said. "We were escaping

from a fire up the street and ---"

"Fire?"said the big guy, not so

friendly anymore. He shouldered

past us and hauled himself halfway

through the roof hatch. He must

have seen the plume of smoke over

Charis' shop right away because he

dropped down and ran up the cor­

ridor shouting, "Fire! Fire! Fire up street! Everyone out! Fire up street!"

The corridor was suddenly full of screaming people in varying states of undress.

Morlock drew me and my brother back against one wall and we waited for the rip­

tide of frightened people to pass away.

"Why didn't you mention the fire before you gave him the money?"I asked

Morlock, thinking that he could have saved himself three gold coins.

Morlock looked at me almost pityingly and said, "Then he wouldn't have waited

to take the money."

Morlock's back was to Thend, who mouthed the word crazy to me. To empha­

size the point he crossed his eyes, drew his upper lip above his teeth and, after put­

ting his wrists to either side of his forehead, waggled his hands gently. It was pret­

ty funny, but I didn't react until Morlock glanced over at Thend and Thend's face

froze in panic. Then I laughed.

The hallway was mostly clear by then, and we followed the tail end of the crowd

down a rickety flight of stairs and into the street. It was full of people now, some

panicking, some laughing, some screaming... and some who were cool and intent,

their faces and their hands bristling with metal.

"Sandboys!"I hissed at Morlock.

He followed my gaze and said, "Both of you go. Get back to Naeli and Roble. I'll

meet you."

Then he drew his dagger and long pointed sword. Somehow he was standing dif­

ferently, too --- sort of sideways, with his feet at right angles to each other. Then his

sword flickered out and one of the Sandboys fell to the ground spewing blood.

Morlock moved again --- it was almost like dancing; I could not believe that crooked

ugly man could move so gracefully --- and another Sandboy was down, leaking

blood onto the cobblestones. His sword and his dagger were dripping red now; sev­

eral Sandboys were down, but more were approaching through the crowd ---

"Come on!"Thend shouted in my ear.

I turned away and ran weeping through the hysterical crowd, heedless of

whether Thend was following or not. It had all been sort of funny up to that point

--- even the worst parts with the golem­Charis and Stokkvenn. But it wasn't funny

now. Those weren't golem bodies hitting the ground. Real men were trying to kill

Morlock, and he would kill as many as he needed to escape. I wondered who would

succeed and I wondered why I cared.

· · ·

I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I'm not sure why I'm telling you

about this at all: maybe because most of these people are lost to me now, and telling

you about them almost brings them back. In any case, since I'm telling you about

it, I want you to get the right idea.

I wasn't squeamish. I couldn't afford to be. From the time I was six until just a

few months ago I'd been living in a village where human sacrifice was a daily occur­

rence. Every night the adults of the village would go out into the woods and onto

the Road and capture people to feed to the God in the Ground. I'd been taken that

way myself, lost in the woods as a child. I'd only been saved because my mother

went and pledged her service to the God in the Ground. In local slang, we became

Bargainers, and we stayed in the Bargainer village until I was almost thirteen. Then

Roble and Morlock killed the God in the Ground and freed my mother and we had

to flee. I'd seen plenty of death, too much for a girl of twelve, too much for a person

of any age, and it wasn't the deaths in the marketplace which disturbed me, exact­

ly.

Part of it was the blood. The God in the Ground preferred to consume his vic­

tims alive in his pit under the Hungry Tree, so it was rare that any Bargainer had

occasion to shed blood or see it. The sight of the blood sickened me and excited me

in a way I can't explain.

Part of it was the thought that Morlock might die. My mother had condemned

herself to years of horror for my sake. I loved her for it, and I was grateful, but there

was no way I could ever pay her back. If Morlock died covering our escape, there

would be another unpayable debt on my conscience, and I wanted no more of them.

All of which I offer as part­explanation for the fact that, as I ran, I sobbed, "Why

won't they leave me alone?"

"I think they're after Morlock, not us,"Thend gasped helpfully as he jogged

beside me.

I told him to shut his pie­hole and ran weeping back to mother.

· · ·

Our mother, Naeli, was sitting on the front steps of an abandoned house. When she

saw us approaching without Morlock she stood and called out, "Roble."

Our uncle Roble and our two older brothers, Stador and Bann, came out of the

abandoned house. All of the houses on this street were abandoned; nearly half the

buildings within the city walls were empty. The city had once been much wealthier,

much more populous. That was before the Khroi came, conquering the mountains

and closing the pass to the north: the Kirach Kund, the River of Skulls --- the place

that was death to enter. (And which, for some reason, we were going to enter.) Since

the north­south trade had been cut off there's been less money to go around, less

reason for anyone to live in Sarkunden, and the city was rotting away from inside.

Maybe that was why everyone in Sarkunden was a money­hungry bastard. Or

maybe they would have been money­hungry bastards wherever they happened to

live.

Roble and Naeli waited until we were within speaking distance and then Naeli

said, "Are you all right?"

"We're fine,"Thend said.

"What about Morlock?"Roble said.

"Well, there were Sandboys ---"I said.

"What's a Sandboy?"Roble and Naeli said, almost together.

I don't know how many people there are in your family. In mine it seemed like

there were always twice as many people as there actually were, and every one of

them trying to interrupt me whenever I said something. I let Thend do most of the

talking, only chiming in when he screwed something up, the way he does some­

times, or when someone was picking on him, the way Stador and Bann always were.

Thend's pretty determined, and he set out to tell the story from the beginning.

There were a lot of interruptions, questions and explanations and it took a long time,

but he finally did it.

Naeli looked at Roble. "What do you think? Should we go and see what we can

do?"

Roble scowled and shrugged. He looked at Thend: "What do you think?"

Thend opened his hands and said, "The fight's over by now. He's away or they

caught him. They might have killed him, but Morlock thought they wanted him

alive."

"They might have lost their tempers, though,"Roble observed dryly. "He can be

irritating."

"Tell me about it,"Thend snorted.

Then the topic was whether we ought to go to the Sandboys and bribe them to

release Morlock. I didn't know what we were going to bribe them with, as we'd left

our homes with little more than the clothes on our backs, but nobody asked for my

opinion anyway. I guess that's the price of not saying much: people assume you

don't have much to say.

I finally did say something, though. "Hey!"I shouted, and pointed at the open

doorway of the house. Morlock was standing there in the shadows of the entry hall.

Naeli and Roble wanted him to come out and tell his part of the story, but he

gestured at them without speaking and backed into the house. Then we all realized

that it was one thing for us to be standing talking in the street; it was another thing

for him: an Imperial outlaw who had a water­gang out after him. And we realized all

this without him having to say a word, which was how he liked it. He didn't like to

say two words if one or none would do.

We trooped inside. In the dusty entryway within, empty except for our gear,

Roble said, "Well? What happened with the Sandboys?"

"Lost them,"Morlock said. I saw Roble's face fall when he realized that was all

we were going to hear about Morlock's big fight in the marketplace. Thinking back

on those bloody bodies falling to the ground, I was just as pleased, but men look at

these things differently, I've noticed. "Came in through the back door and heard you

out there,"Morlock added, in a burst of eloquence.

He sat down beside his big heavy backpack, a little abruptly.

"Are you wounded?"Naeli said sharply, going and kneeling beside him.

"An old wound in my leg,"he explained. "It aches a little when I fight --- or run."

My mother began to massage his leg.

Stador and Bann looked a little blank. Roble got this grin on his dark face. Like,

Bless you, my children. Thend looked mad --- he didn't like any of the signs that our

mother and Morlock were getting close. Jealousy, I guess: he'd lost her for more

than five years, had just gotten her back, and was in no mood to share her with a

stranger whose skin made one think of mushrooms and dead fish. Personally, I was

happy for her. She was younger then than I am now, a vigorous and beautiful

woman in the last summery glory of her youth. But back then I thought of her as

quite old, almost as old as Morlock, and I didn't see why two old people shouldn't

be happy together. I wasn't surprised that she took to him either: the only other

men she'd seen for the last five years had been either sacrifices to the God in the

Ground, or the men of the Bargainer village, all of them pretty repulsive types. I

actually don't think she'd been with anyone since my father died, and that was

before I was born, thirteen years since.

The only two people who didn't seem to have any emotional reaction to what was

going on were Morlock and Naeli themselves. Naeli was saying, in a matter­of­fact

voice, "What are we going to do now?"

Morlock said flatly, "I think you should go to Ontilian, the Imperial capital. I still

have some friends there and they can help you find a place to stand. I'll give you a

letter."

"While you go north alone,"Naeli said icily. "Into the Kirach Kund, without the

information Charis was going to get for you."

That was what Morlock had been expecting from Charis: information from the

Imperial scouts on what the Khroic hordes in the mountains were up to. It might

make the difference in surviving the trip through the deadly pass. He said he'd

already paid for it and all he needed to do was pick it up. (He'd told us the whole

story, but I've forgotten half of it, and I'm not sure I believe the half that I remem­

ber.) That was what had led to the fiasco in the Market today.

Morlock wasn't saying anything, as usual, but it was the way he wasn't saying

it.

"Come on, Morlock,"said Roble, a little impatiently. "If you're going to dump us

here the least you owe us is an explanation."

I didn't see this at all. But apparently it convinced Morlock because he said, "All

right. I'm going to try to find Charis. He's probably still alive --- he's good at that sort

of thing, and his enemies don't seem to have found him yet."

"And he may have your information."

"Um. Yes."

"Morlock! Spit it out!"Roble said it, but it might have been any of us.

The crooked man shrugged. "It's a question of who's really after him. The

Guard? He's been a goose laying golden eggs for them for years now. The Sandboys?

I expect the same is true: he seemed to be greasing every palm in town when I was

last here. No one has any motive to kill him."

"So there's someone else,"Roble said. "Is it important who?"

"It might be,"Morlock said.

"Why?"

"Charis would have attracted the hostile attention of this person shortly after he

was fishing for information about the Kirach Kund --- and the Khroi. It may be a

mere coincidence, or the Khroi may have a powerful agent in this city. I want to

know if this is true."

"Then we'll stay and help you find out,"Roble said "Afterwards we can take up

the question of who's going where."

"The hell we will!"Naeli said fiercely. "Morlock, you are not going to abandon us

in this damnable place where everything and everybody is for sale."

"Ontilian isn't like Sarkunden,"Morlock said. "Nor do you know what the Kirach

Kund is like."

"I know this much ---"

"Let's table it,"Roble said briskly. "I say we eat and sleep and start looking for

Charis tonight when the Sandboys are in their little sandbeds."

Roble was pretty good at breaking up arguments. Maybe it was all those years

of living with my mom. Anyway, that was what we did, but it didn't work exactly as

he'd planned it.

· · ·

We always kept watch at night, and we didn't see any reason to change that because

we were camping in a house instead of an open field. (We didn't want to wake up

and find the house surrounded by Keeps or Sandboys.) With seven of us no one had

to stay up long, although it was a pain to stand watch in the middle of the night, so

we rotated. That night, Morlock took the first watch and I took the second. Thend

was third, and boy was he grumpy when I woke him. We argued about what time it

was, and afterwards I was too mad to sleep, so I wandered around the house to find

someone awake to talk to. That was how I noticed that Morlock's room, on the sec­

ond floor of the abandoned house, was empty, the unfastened shutters flapping

gently in the night breeze.

It sort of looked like he'd climbed out the window, so I poked my head out and

looked around. It took awhile to spot him, but I finally saw a crooked silhouette

right up at the end of the alley: Morlock.

I climbed out the window and followed him.

If you'd asked me why at the time, I couldn't have explained it. It certainly

wasn't any echo of my mother's romantic feelings: I thought Morlock was repulsive.

But I liked him and was mad at him in a way I didn't try to understand.

Now that I've seen my daughters with their father, I understand a little better.

I never knew my father, and I was always latching on to older men in the Bargainer

village --- some of them pretty creepy. (It was only thanks to Naeli's vigilance that I

was still a maiden at twelve.) Morlock was another one of these stand­ins for my

father, I think. In lots of ways he was a pretty bad fit, but in some he was a good

one. My mother and he seemed to have something going on, or something about to

begin, for one thing. For another, he had a wholly disinterested kindness for me

and for Thend. In any case, I always felt safe with him --- I knew he'd always stand

between me and danger. The only other person I ever felt that way about was Naeli,

and I knew there were some things she couldn't handle. I wasn't sure if that was

true about Morlock. (Turns out there was plenty, but I didn't know that then.)

Anyway: I followed him. At first I tried to catch up, and then I realized that

might not be too smart --- if he noticed me while we were still close to the house,

he might take me back and wake Naeli and Roble, and there would be screaming

and shouting offensive to my sensitive spirit. So I started to sneak along, just near

enough to keep him in sight.

After a while I realized something: I wasn't the only person following him. There

was a furtive shadow slinking along among other shadows lining the street between

Morlock and me. A Sandboy, I figured: maybe one of them had trailed Morlock to

the house, in spite of what he'd thought, and was now following him to find out

where Charis was (if Morlock was right about that).

I crept closer to the shadowy figure, very gradually and carefully so as to not

give myself away. I wanted a closer look at him and, when I got one, I suddenly real­

ized that I recognized the guy, even though (strictly speaking) I'd never seen him

before. He was very dirty and bedraggled, but his greasy hair was a pale yellow and

his sickly skin was white as a wax candle in dim ambient moonlight. His eyes, I bet,

would be green. Charis --- the original master wonder­worker of that nasty little

establishment Morlock had burned down this afternoon.

I didn't like this. Maybe Morlock was wrong: maybe Charis himself had lured

Morlock into town, hoping to kill him off and cancel his debts that way.

I waited until he had crept a little closer to Morlock and I had crept a little clos­

er to him. Then, when he was crossing from one hiding place to another in the

shadow­stitched street, I took him out, or tried to.

My brothers played this game called vinch­ball, and it is so stupid I could burst.

I knew more about it than I want to, because I'd watched them play it so much, and

because when they weren't playing it they were usually talking about it. Like most

boys' games, it involved hitting people and knocking them over for no clearly

defined reason. Well, I had a reason and, thanks to vinch­ball (I wish I'd never said

that, but it's true) I knew how to tackle someone bigger than me and bring him

down.

I hit Charis from behind, about the level of his knees. He gave a thin scream

and fell backwards. I scrambled out of the way and pounced on him. All that went

according to plan.

Unfortunately I'd underestimated Charis. He was even thinner and weedier

than his golem­figure, and his muscles were as soft as mud. But he was a grown

man and he fought with the strength of desperation. I was starting to lose the fight

when someone else joined the mix.

It was Thend. Between us, we managed to pin Charis' arms behind him as he

wriggled, face down on the street beneath us. He was still struggling and gasping,

and I didn't know how long we could hold him, when suddenly he went limp.

I looked up. Morlock was standing over us.

"Charis,"he said.

"Master Morlock,"Charis replied, his voice muffled. "Would you please get your

servants off me?"

"I am not your master,"Morlock replied coldly, "nor theirs."

We let him go anyway and even helped him to his feet.

"How did you get here?"I demanded from Thend.

"Good thing I did get here,"he sniffed.

"That's not an answer! Who's on guard back at ---"I realized I shouldn't say too

much in front of Charis "--- back there?"

"Roble,"Thend said. "He saw you go and sent me after you."

"He's asleep ---"

"Roble's awake, or ought to be,"Morlock said. "We agreed that I would go scout

for Charis and he would wait for a message, in case I got into trouble."

"How are you going to send him a message?"Thend asked.

"If you need to know, I'll tell you,"Morlock said, not like he was mad. He turned

to Charis. "You don't look well,"he observed.

"Thanks to you!"Charis snapped. "When I acquired your information, the Khroi

became... interested in me. They ordered their man in the city to hunt me down."

"Who is he?"Morlock asked. "Perhaps I can defend you from him."

"No!"Charis seemed genuinely frightened. "Please don't... don't help. I wish no

more obligations to you. No more to anyone. I'll find a way to destroy... the agent,

or escape him... somehow. If I can pay you what I already owe, I will gladly close

our account."

"Then?"

"If you're asking me where your information is ---"

"I am."

"--- it is under lock and key, safe in my house."

"Then we will go to your house."

"No!"Charis shouted. "I can't! They're watching for me there!"

"We will trust to your walls and your golems for the few moments we'll be there."

"I don't have any golems,"Charis sobbed. "They won't obey me anymore. The

Khroi's agent got to them somehow. I haven't set foot inside my house for three

months. The last time I did the golems tried to kill me. Kill me!"

"Hm,"said Morlock. "Didn't you write a stop­word into your golems' life­scrolls?

Something that would bring them to a halt if they started to go astray?"

"Of course. What do you take me for?"

Morlock looked like he was about to tell him, then said, "Never mind that."

"Well, it didn't work anymore, that's all."

"I wrote stop­words into the golems I made for you a few months ago."

"Oh, I know all about that. I took the scrolls out and changed their safe­words

to my own. And now that won't work. You look like you don't believe me, but it's

perfectly true."

Morlock didn't answer this; he was silent for a moment, obviously thinking.

"You obtained the information and secured it in your house?"he asked.

"Yes. I ---"

"Was the place well­hidden?"

"Yes. The ---"

"Did you tell anyone the location? Did your golems see you hide it?"

"No. Whenever I ---"

"Is it in a room with a window?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

Charis stared at Morlock for a moment and said, "Yes, there's a window. But it

was shuttered when I hid the information; no one could see in, if that's what you're

---"

"Then we will go to your house."

"But I can't ---"

Morlock stopped him with a single glance. Oh, how I've tried to do that, but it

never works, even with my daughters.

We went to Charis' house: a fortress­like palace of native blue­stone, not far

from the western wall of the city. It was surrounded by a dry moat. There was no

obvious way to cross the moat, but at one point in the wall there was a great bronze

door; maybe that could be lowered like a bridge. Bow slits lined the walls above the

moat; every now and then I caught the gleam of watching eyes.

We lurked in the shadows of a half­ruined building across the way from the

bronze door while Charis pointed out to Morlock the window of the room where the

information was hidden. "But we'll never reach it,"Charis said despairingly, and I

had to agree: the window was halfway up a smooth featureless wall. Even if we

could get across the moat without being spotted we could never climb up. And, even

if we could get in the front door (which we couldn't), I didn't like the thought of try­

ing to sneak through a house of killer golems.

But Morlock, when Charis had made the layout clear to him, just nodded and

took something out of a pocket sewn into his cloak. (His clothing was full of weird

pockets.) It looked like a big feathery ball; he unfolded two winglike branches,

revealing a glassy sphere hanging in the middle. It was like a bird with no head,

black wings and a glass body

I had no idea what it was, but Charis did. "No!"he gasped. "Not ---"

"Keep him quiet,"Morlock said to us.

We did, enthusiastically.

Morlock held the bird­thing in his right hand. He struck flame with something

he was holding in his left hand and applied it to the glass sphere. Nothing happened

at first, but then something lit up inside the glass sphere. The wings stretched out

and seemed almost to come alive.

Morlock said a couple of words I didn't understand and tossed the wing­thing

into the air. It hovered above us for a moment, the glowing sphere casting a weird

red light on our heads. Then it flew away towards the blue stone facing of Charis'

house, its red heart trailing fire through the blue­black darkness. It hit the house

exactly on the opposite side of where the information was hidden (if Charis was

telling the truth). The wing­thing exploded when it hit the wall and flame splashed

out, taking root even in the stone and continuing to burn.

"Wow!"Thend remarked brilliantly.

"Do it again!"I said.

Morlock grinned crookedly at us and gestured that we should let Charis go.

"My house!"he groaned.

"It's not your house right now,"Morlock pointed out. "If we succeed tonight, it

may be your house again."

"I don't see how."

"Then the fire loses you nothing. In any case, I'll pay you for the damage. We

cross to the moat now."

"What about the watchers?"I asked.

"There won't be any. All his golems are instructed to fight fires when they occur.

I noticed it when I was last here. He's terrified of fire."

"And why not?"Charis groaned.

Morlock did the shut­him­up­with­a­look thing again and we all ran across the

open space and jumped down into the dry moat. Morlock led us around until we

were just under the window of the room we wanted. He took something that looked

like a big bean out of another pocket and, holding it up to his mouth, muttered

some words to it. Then he put it down on the ground.

The bean burst like a hatching egg and out of it crawled a vine with broad

greenish­black leaves. It crawled straight up the side of the moat and the wall

above it.

"Wow!"said Thend. "That'll be handy in the mountains."

Morlock looked rueful. "I'm afraid it's my last one. I had four, but I traded three

of them to this boy for his cow."

"That's crazy!"

"Well, I really needed the cow."The vine stopped growing. "I'll go first,"Morlock

said. "Send Charis after me. Then both of you come up; no one is to wait below."

"Morlock,"I whispered, "I'm not sure I can climb all the way up to that window."

Morlock replied quietly, "Just take a firm grip on the vine and hold on."He did

so, and vanished. I looked up and saw the vine was carrying him upward to the

window. He fiddled with the shutters for a moment, then looked down to us and

gestured. He disappeared into the now open window.

"What a thief he could have been!"Thend whispered to me. "Robbery. Lock­

picking. House­breaking. He can do it all."

"Tell him sometime,"Charis said, with a pale unpleasant leer. "As long as I'm

there to watch."

"Up the vine, you,"I snapped.

His face got a mutinous look for a moment, but then he looked at ours. He

turned and grabbed the vine. It carried him up the wall to the window and he

climbed in.

Thend went next; I was last. It was like falling straight upwards, and I nearly

lost my grip at the top. But I didn't quite, and scrambled through the casement into

the room I thought we'd never reach.

"Close the shutters,"Morlock said, still quietly, but not whispering. There was

a big commotion coming from other parts of the house; it looked like Morlock's plan

was working so far. He struck a light and set it on a nearby table.

"What's that?"I asked in a quavering voice, just before it moved.

It: vaguely manlike, but half again as tall as a man, and broad in proportion,

with thick trunklike limbs. Its huge hairless head had big batwing ears dangling on

either side and one great blue eye occupying its whole face: no nose or mouth. I

thought it was a statue, set with its back against the door to keep it shut, until it

stepped forward, clenching one hand and raising a spear in the other.

Morlock's sword was strapped over his back and he drew it just as the creature

moved, thanks to my warning, I think. He leaped forward and struck off the thing's

head. The head went spinning off and bounced against the door... but there didn't

seem to be any effect on the creature at all. It grabbed Morlock with its left hand

and threw him like a rag doll against the far wall. Then it threw its spear, pinning

Morlock's sword arm to the wall. It strode up to him and grabbed his left arm with

its right. It clenched its left hand and began striking Morlock on the head and body

with its great stone­like fist: heavy blows, killing blows.

Thend cursed and ran forward to grab the thing's left arm. It was the bravest

thing I'd seen since Roble ran off to fight the whole Bargainer village and the God

in the Ground with one thin knife (my knife, as it happens, and I never got it back,

either, but maybe that's not important).

But it was perfectly useless. The headless thing kept on pummeling Morlock,

dragging Thend back and forth with each blow. It didn't even seem to know he was

there.

I looked around for Charis. He was crouched under a table across the room.

Useless sack of quivering snot --- but what good could he do? What could any of us

do? The thing would kill Morlock and then each one of us. Unless I could make it

to the window and the vine would take me down...

It was the only course that made any sense. I couldn't help Morlock or Thend.

There was no use in my dying, too.

Glancing about wildly, I saw the thing's severed head, sitting on the floor in front

of the door. The single blue eye, still alive, was intently watching its former body

pummel Morlock. I thought about tossing the head out the window, but that

wouldn't do any good; it could kill Morlock without seeing him, now. I shuddered,

wondering what sort of monster could kill someone after its head had been cut off.

Then I knew, of course. It had to be a golem. That thing, that golem in Charis'

shop today, it had gone on babbling after Morlock ripped its eye out and split open

its chest. It had only stopped moving when he... when he...

"Oh, no,"I whispered, as the idea struck me. "I can't do it. I can't."

But I had to.

"Aaaaa­aaaa­aaaaaah!"I screamed, running across the room and leaping onto

the golem's back. Its shoulder was surging back and forth as it pounded Morlock,

and I almost got thrown off, but it didn't seem to know or care that I was on it, and

I managed to hold on with my legs and left arm. I plunged my right arm down into

the open neck of the golem.

The inside of the golem was sticky, like wet clay, and the nastiness of it nearly

made me let go. But I held on and groped around inside the golem's chest until my

right hand closed on something that felt like a scroll. I seized it and pulled it out

through the open neck.

The headless golem was just throwing back its fist for another blow. It froze as

I brought the scroll triumphantly out.

"Ha!"I shouted as it teetered there, and then added, "Uh oh!"

The dead golem fell back to the floor with me under it.

"Owie,"I complained, and passed out.

· · ·

When I woke up I wasn't sure I had really been anywhere. It seemed like it was all

a weird dream, and I was laying in my own sleeping cloak in the room of the aban­

doned house where Naeli and I slept.

Then I tried to sit up. "Be still, you stupid moron,"said Thend, pushing me back

down. I realized my head was in his lap. He bent down and kissed my forehead.

"Hey!"he said. "She's all right!"

I was about to correct him, because I ached all over. But then realized that if I

was all right I could sit up. I pointed this out, pushing his ugly face out of my way

after patting his cheek, and struggled to my feet.

The room was suddenly full of people who were glad to see me. If you've ever had

the experience, you can fill in the blanks here --- I'm not going to describe every­

thing that was said and done.

Eventually I noticed Morlock leaning against the doorway with a broad smile on

his bruised face, watching me in the bosom of my family.

I glared at him. He was supposed to be invulnerable, protecting me from the bad

people. And there he was grinning at me because, through sheer luck, his reck­

lessness and the golem hadn't killed all four of us in Charis' house.

"Thanks for saving my life,"he said, when the furor died down a bit.

"Yeah, well,"I said huffily. "Watch your step. I might not be around to do it, next

time."

He shrugged and opened his hands in a well, you know kind of gesture. This

seemed pretty flippant, under the circumstances, so I clouded up and thundered

at him for awhile. I was pretty clear about what I expected from him and how he

had so far failed to deliver. At least I tried to be, but the fact that my face was buried

against his chest part of the time may have muffled some of my words, that and

some of the weeping.

He patted my back awkwardly until I settled down, and then said, "Eh, what

are you complaining about? You didn't even have to walk home."

Charis was standing nearby in the room beyond and he said, "I must say the

young lady has a point. We all owe her a great deal. I would estimate ---"

"It's not a business relationship,"Morlock said. He wasn't smiling when he said

it, but his tone wasn't really much different than when he'd been talking to me.

Still, Charis crumpled like a moth who'd gotten too close to a candleflame.

I stood back and wiped my eyes. "So you got what you need from Charis' house?

Now we go north?"

Charis' twisted face took on a panicky look, which Morlock ignored, saying, "Yes

and no."

"Ugh. What a stupid thing to say! Which is it?"

"Yes, we got the information from Charis' house. No, we are not going north, at

least not right away."

"Morlock thinks there's some threat to the city from outside,"said Roble, com­

ing up beside me. "He may be right."

"So what?"I said. If all Sarkunden sank into the ground it wouldn't ruin my

day.

"Eh,"Morlock said, "it's not my favorite city either. But it's the keystone of the

Empire's defenses in the north. If it broke, the Khroi or the Anhikh could sweep in

at will --- possibly both."

"You're an Imperial outlaw!"I said. "What do you care?"

He shrugged his wry shoulders. "I have friends in the Empire. If it collapses,

they'll be in harm's way. I'm going to see about this."

"All right,"I said grudgingly. "What do we have to do?"

"You,"my mother said, with a calm that was just the thin icy coating on a deep

dark lake of fury, "will do precisely nothing."

I didn't feel like arguing with her. First because she obviously was one thumb's

length away from crazy and I didn't want to push her in the wrong direction; sec­

ond because I ached all over, especially in my belly. I didn't want to go anywhere.

"It's someone else's turn on the field anyway,"Stador said, apparently thinking

I was disappointed. "Come look at the map!"

The map was unrolled on the floor in the next room: a huge map of the city.

Looking closely at it, I saw three tiny pieces of gold quivering on the map.

One was not far from the Great Market, where we'd had our run­in with the

Sandboys. Another was moving down the twists of an alley toward the South Wall.

One was firmly fixed on the citadel, where the Imperial Guards had their head­

quarters.

I looked at Morlock for an explanation, then decided it would be too much trou­

ble to drag it out of him and turned to Thend.

"You remember those gold pieces Morlock gave the bullyboy in the whore­

house?"Thend asked. "They were ensorcelled. Those gold bits tell us where each

one of those gold pieces are right now."

Well, I'd worked in a cathouse. I thought I could follow the reasoning. The

Sandboys probably had their little sand­paws into every business on that street.

The bullyboy had probably passed along what he knew, along with part of his loot.

"So who's who?"I asked.

"If I had to guess,"Roble said, "I'd guess the coin heading south is in the pock­

et of your friend from the cathouse. The one still near the cathouse is in the strong­

box of the house's pimp or the Sandboys."He crouched down and tapped the gold

fleck at the citadel. "This is the interesting one."

"I see,"I said. "Someone in the Guards is slurping money from the Sandboys."

"The Commander is my guess,"Morlock said. "That immunity was the perfect

bait to bring me into the city where the Sandboys are strongest. They're connect­

ed, somehow."

"But just because the Commander's doing business with the water­gangs

doesn't mean he's a traitor,"Naeli objected. "The Sandboys wouldn't want a for­

eign conqueror in the city."

"Hard to say,"Morlock replied. "They might be hoping for a better deal with the

new rulers. Or maybe the commander is the agent of a foreign power, corrupting

the local gangs. We'll go and find out."

"How?"I wondered.

Morlock shrugged, and I knew that was as much as he was going to say about

it. He rolled up the map and stuck it under his arm. He and Roble spoke apart

with Naeli for a few moments and then they were gone.

· · ·

Then it was time to go back to bed, past time... but no one did. Bann went off to

stand watch, and Naeli paced around in the entryway on the first floor, and Stador

and Thend were playing a knife­throwing game in the map room. I was sitting on

my bed­roll, rocking back and forth, wondering why my gut hurt so much. I was

wondering about that, and also wondering why Charis was standing just outside

my doorway (as I could tell from his shadow on the floor).

"If you're waiting for me to put the light out,"I called to him finally, "I'm not

going to."

He appeared in the doorway then. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you,"he said. "I'm in

a bit of a quandary."

"And you think I can help?"

"I hope not. That is --- you've done enough. Too much, I'd say. I owe you a very

great debt and I don't see how I can repay it."

"It's on the house."

"Nothing is `on the house,' if I understand what you mean. Everyone keeps

track of these things and debts have to be paid. Those are the principles by which

I have lived my life."

"I can see you've made a big thing of it."This was a little icy, I admit, but my

belly hurt and I didn't like the game he was playing (to the extent that I understood

it).

His face twisted. "I was doing well enough --- until I did business with Morlock."

"You shouldn't have tried to cheat him."

Charis sighed. "My troubles only really began when I stopped trying to `cheat'

him, as you put it."

"How would you put it?"

"I would say that no bargain justifies putting a man in danger of his life. No

one can be fairly asked to trade away his life, because there is nothing of equal

value he can receive for it. A bargain that puts my existence at stake is void."His

voice was getting almost hysterical and he broke off, looking a little embarrassed.

"Then you shouldn't have struck the bargain in the first place."

Charis sighed. "That's true, of course. But I wanted what Morlock had to offer

me. Now I've lost that, and nearly everything else as well, and I've contracted a new

debt to you. You see my problem."

"Well, I didn't do it for you, if that helps any."

"It does, a little,"he said, stepping into the room. "But ---"

"That's close enough,"I said. I wanted to have time to call out if he tried any­

thing.

He stopped short, apparently not resenting my suspicion. "But I can't be sure,"

he said, "that you wouldn't have saved my life, even if others you cared about

hadn't been in danger. I've learned a little bit about you, I think. And then there is

the undoubted fact that you did save my life, at terrible risk to your own."

"I was saving my own life, too. I was in there in that room with the rest of you."

"Oh, no!"Charis said, shaking his head wisely. "Tell that to the others, if you

like; I think it's safer for you that way, blunting the sharp edge of their gratitude.

Gratitude can be a terrible burden to live with, day after day, and you're wise to

give them the illusion that their debt is less than it really is. But I saw you. You

looked at the window and knew you could escape with your life. Then you did the

other thing."

For the first time I was sort of impressed by Charis. He did understand people

a little bit. I thought about how I felt about Naeli and all that she'd done for me,

and I knew he was right about gratitude, too, although I hoped there was more to

it than Charis understood.

What had Morlock said? It's not a business relationship. Was there a way to live

your life like that, not totaling up a balance sheet of benefits and obligations but

instead... What? Morlock hadn't said what it was; he'd just said what it wasn't.

Maybe Charis was right after all.

My head hurt, and not only my head. My stomach hurt, deep inside. I bent over

myself gasping. My legs and the bedroll were all wet with blood. Glancing up I saw

Charis was closer to me now.

"Get away from me!"I shrieked. I didn't want him canceling his debts by get­

ting rid of me.

Charis leaped back to the door. Stador and Thend rushed in, with Naeli and

Bann only a few steps behind them.

My brothers pinned Charis to the wall while Naeli came over to me.

"I did nothing to her, Madame Naeli,"Charis was babbling. "We were talking

and she expressed pain. I'm afraid she is hurt from ---"

"Don't call me `madame,'"Naeli snapped. "I'm not some Coranian bimbo­

herder."She bent over me and investigated briefly. "It's nothing to worry about,

baby,"she told me after a moment. "Just Aunt Ruby paying a visit."

"What?"asked Bann stupidly.

"It's her time."

"Time for what?"Stador asked.

"Time for her period, you clowns. Will you get the hell out of here so I can take

care of her?"

The boys herded Charis out of the room and I started to sob.

"Look,"Naeli said after we dealt with some of the practical issues, "it's nothing

to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed,"I said, lying a little. I hadn't liked that horrified look all

the males had given me before dragging their non­bleeding carcasses out of the

room.

"But it hurts. Is it always like this?"

"Um. Yes and no."

"Death and Justice, I hate it when people say that!"

"Calm down, honey. It won't usually be this bad, and your first one is hardly

ever this bad. It's just that..."

"Mama, are you going to tell me about this or what?"

I hardly ever called Naeli "Mama"and it seemed to steady her a little.

"All right,"she said. "Back in the Bargainer village, girls were always sealed to

the service of the God in the Ground when they reached their menarche."

"Sure. But --- Oh. You did something."

"Yes. There's a spell you can use to delay a girl's menarche."

"I didn't know you knew any magic."

"I don't know much. But every woman in that village knew this one. We all want­

ed our daughters free as long as possible. I always hoped I'd find a way to get you

out before you were sealed to the Boneless One --- and that's how it worked out,

thanks to your uncle Roble."

"And Morlock."

"Yes. Him."I got the feeling Naeli wasn't so pleased with Morlock tonight.

"Anyway, after we were freed, I stopped renewing the spell. I didn't realize that it

would make your first period so severe, but that must be what's happening. I'm

sorry, baby: I'm not much of a witch."

"Oh, you're all right, I guess."This was the point to say something mushy, and

I was grateful to her. In a way, that was the problem. Did my pain at the moment

pay for what she had done? Or had she paid some price I knew nothing of? Probably

the latter. So my debt to her was increased by who­knows how much. That

depressed me even further.

At some point, in spite of the depression and the pain, I slept. But not nearly

long enough.

· · ·

"Fasra, get up,"Stador was saying.

I replied in the negative. That was the gist of it, anyway.

"This isn't a joke. The house is surrounded."

You know all those times you wonder whether you want to go on living? If some­

thing actually threatens you during one of those moments, you make your mind up

in a hurry.

I sat up, told him to get out so I could change my rags, and got up before he was

out of the door.

All the others were down on the first floor. I didn't get there much after Stador,

with my pack on my back.

"Who's outside?"I asked Naeli.

"Imperial troops,"she said. "They seem to be waiting for something, but they're

all around the house."

"They're waiting for reinforcements,"Charis guessed. "They're expecting Morlock

to be in here. And they have glass lizards. Glass lizards from Kaen. They're the best

tracking animals in the world. We can never get away."

"So where do we go?"I asked.

"Exactly where they'll expect,"Naeli said. "Down through the sewers."

"Why go where they expect us to go?"

"What's the alternative?"Naeli replied, and I had to admit she had a point.

We went down into the basement. I'd never been down there before; it was sort

of creepy. But not so creepy as the big black hole Naeli uncovered, gesturing that

we should go down in.

Thend obviously felt the same way as I did. "How far can we get in the sewer?"

he grumbled. "If it's Charis they're after, I say we give him to them."

Charis jumped like a rabbit at that, and he didn't look very reassured when

Naeli said, "We'll hold that in reserve. If we can get away clean, that's our first

choice."

"Clean!"said Bann and gulped.

I growled and shouldered past all three of my big brothers. There were grips for

hands and feet leading down into the dark pit. I jumped onto them and began climb­

ing downward.

"Well?"said Naeli coldly, and the guys started to follow me, grumbling a little.

It wasn't really so bad. I mean, don't kid yourself, it wasn't like taking a walk in

the hills after a spring rain. But I'd kind of expected it to niff like an outhouse that's

been used by a hundred thousand people, and it wasn't anything like that.

When I got down to the bottom of the climbing grips, I was standing in a tunnel

on a pretty wide ledge --- wider than any sidewalk I remember in Four Castles. In

the middle of the tunnel ran a stream of dark water several times as wide as the

ledge, and on the far side of the tunnel there was another ledge. I could see all this

because of a luminous green mold that grew in patches on the walls.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever in both directions. Other tunnels joined up

with it at intervals, and the whole thing seemed to tilt slightly --- so that everything

could roll downhill, I realized, just like the proverb said.

"It's like a whole city under the city!"said Stador, when we were all down on the

ledge.

"Yes,"Charis said, with a certain amount of hometown pride, I thought. "The

Old Ontilians built it, in ancient days. When Ambrosia rebuilt the city in the days

of Lothar the Great, she could do nothing to better the sewers."

"Who's Ambrosia?"I asked.

Charis looked at me, his face slack with amazement --- as if I'd asked, "What is

the sun?"or "What is water?"

"Morlock's sister,"Naeli answered. "Among other things, I gather."

"Other things,"said Charis, as if he'd been punched, and shook his head.

"Go north,"Naeli directed us. "Upstream. That's where Roble and Morlock will

be looking for us, if we're not in the house. If need be, we go all the way to the Kirach

Kund."

"Do the sewers reach all that way?"I asked.

"Yes and no,"Naeli replied, and winked at me just before I exploded.

I turned around and started walking upstream.

· · ·

We went as fast as we could; all too soon the clash of metal came echoing up the

tunnel behind us. The Imperials were in the sewers.

"Quick and quiet,"whispered Naeli, and led us up a tunnel leading northwest.

"They'll have glass lizards,"Charis said. "They scent... they'll scent us."

He looked at me as he was speaking, and then away. All of a sudden I realized

he meant, They'll scent Fasra.

I was furious. He didn't smell so delightfully fresh himself. And I'd saved his stu­

pid life! Catch me making that mistake again.

I fell a little further behind, walking beside Thend at the back of the group. I was

steamed at first, too mad to talk even if talking hadn't been too dangerous. But pret­

ty soon I cooled off and, as I did, I realized something.

Charis, damn him, was right. If the Imperial troops had hunting beasts, and if

they had caught a scent in the house that they were trailing in the sewer, it was

probably mine. Plus, I was shorter than everyone else. If it had been a matter of a

short sprint, I probably could have left them all behind, but on a long walk I was

inevitably going to slow the group down, even if I weren't feeling sick, which I was:

the cramping had started again, as bad as ever.

I thought and thought and all my thinking came to one conclusion. I probably

couldn't get away. But if I led the hunters astray, the others probably could.

It wasn't my first choice, believe me. I was going to bull my way to the front of

the pack and argue with Naeli that now was the time to trade Charis for our lives

and freedom. The trouble was, I soon realized what Naeli probably had realized

back at the house: it wouldn't work.

Why were they after Charis, anyway? Because he knew something, or they

thought he did. Probably the Khroic agent wanted him captured, because he was

passing information on about the Khroi. Or maybe the Imperials wanted him

because they thought he knew something about the Khroic agent. Either way, the

trouble is, we had been traveling with Charis and protecting him --- and knowledge

is contagious. If the Imperials caught us they would take us all prisoner, and the

Strange Gods only knew if we'd ever see the light of day again.

That left my fallback plan: i.e. Fasra takes one for the team, like any good

vinch­ball player. (I hate vinch­ball, but we've been through all that.)

Naeli was leading the group on a zigzag path through the interweaving tunnels:

now northwest, now northeast, but always trending north. The ledges were a little

narrower and we were going single file. Naeli, at the head of the line, was often out

of my sight around a corner. I dropped a little further back, and a little further.

"What are you doing?"Thend whispered, looking over his shoulder at me.

I pointed over my shoulder, pointed at myself and gestured wildly to the west.

I hoped he'd get the idea and he did.

"No,"he said, almost at his normal voice, and from the front of the line came

an imperious whisper, "Be quiet!"

In a schoolroom whisper, I explained to Thend why it had to be this way.

He got it. There's nothing wrong with his wits, whatever you say about his man­

ners.

"I'll come with you,"he said quietly.

I shook my head. "You have to stay with the group --- make like I'm always a

little behind you. Otherwise..."

Otherwise Naeli would stop and come back for me. He knew it. His eyes looked

tortured, and I hated the thought of the guilt I was inflicting on him. But I'd rather

have him guilty and alive than have us all be guilt­free and dead in some Imperial

torture chamber. There are some occasions when family togetherness is overrated.

"I'm sorry,"I whispered. "I'll catch up if I can,"I added.

He shook his head, kissed me on the side of the face and left me standing there.

Soon he and the others were out of sight.

· · ·

I stood for a moment where I was, and then backtracked a bit. There was an arched

stone bridge passing over the stream westward. I reached under my tunic and

unbelted the rags that had been absorbing (partially) my flow. I dragged it behind

me as I crossed over the bridge. Then I waited at the tunnel junction until it sound­

ed like the pursuers were almost about to come in sight. I left the rags behind on

the ground and fled up the tunnel.

Soon I knew it was working: some, at least, of the pursuers were pursuing me.

I couldn't run for very long, and soon I heard them behind me: the tramp of the

soldiers' boots, muttered comments or orders (distorted into unintelligibility in the

echoing tunnels), the sniffling of beasts (glass lizards?).

I turned northwest or southwest at the junctions, always trending westward. I

doubted I'd escape them, but there was always the chance that they'd think I was

unimportant to them, nothing to do with Charis, or Morlock, or their damn city. (I

wished it were true.) And every moment they chased me was one Naeli and my

brothers were using to get away. Or so I hoped.

How long it all lasted I really can't say. I'd had a long day and practically no

sleep; a fog of weariness was settling over my mind. I found myself leaning against

the entrance to one of these tunnels, my mind a blank, unsure what I was sup­

posed to be doing.

Then, in the tunnel I had come out of, on the far side of the stream, I saw the

glass lizards. They were on long leashes; I didn't see any of their keepers, though

I could hear them. There were four or five of the lizards, about the size of large dogs

or wolves, and, as they came out into the larger tunnel, their transparent forms

caught the light from the walls, like jars of clouded glass and they turned bright

translucent green. I could see what seemed to be a human hand in one of their

stomachs.

I don't think they saw me: their eyes were sort of blank and squinty, and did­

n't look too useful. But they smelled me. Their heads weaved for a moment in the

air as they stood before the bridge crossing the stream, and then they each point­

ed a blunt serpentine snout right at me.

I spun around and ran up the tunnel, heard them following eagerly as I ran.

That jolt of terror lasted for a long time, and I even left them behind for a while.

But eventually I was stumbling and staggering again, slowing down, hearing them

closing in on me again and unable to remember why I cared.

Presently I found myself staring, open­mouth, at a smooth­faced wall. There

was no tunnel to westward: not northwest, not southwest. I couldn't understand

it. How had they managed to block me off?

It was the end of the sewer system, of course, but I was too stupid with weari­

ness to understand that. But I had just enough wit left to understand I had to turn

right or left. At random I turned left and stumbled as fast as I could, leaning from

time to time on the smooth wall running along with me on my right.

Except once, unaccountably, it wasn't there. I fell to my right through a dark

hole and face first on a pile of stones.

Too tired even to feel pain, I crawled up the rockslide without thinking. At the

top I staggered to my feet and looked blearily around. The place where I stood was

much larger and more open than any part of the sewers I had seen; it was still

underground, I guessed from the echoes.

Ahead was a dark river, clean and cold. I realized that this must be the river

that fed the sewer systems. There was some source of red light across the river,

but I couldn't see what it was. My first guess was torches, but that turned out to

be wrong. To my right and left were rough walls of stone. Behind me in the sewers

were the Imperial soldiers with their glass lizards. If I was going to escape from

them, it would be across the river.

I ran down to the bank of the river and was about to plunge in. I don't know

why I didn't. I heard the soldiers shouting; I knew they had seen me. I could even

hear the glass lizards snuffling behind me. I had every reason to risk leaping into

the cold swift water --- even if it killed me. But I didn't.

As I stood there, hesitating, a drop of my blood dripped off my shoe into the

water. Instantly, a white light appeared in the dark water. Something like a glow­

ing orchid leaped up from the river bottom and snapped at the drip of blood like a

dog snapping at a bit of meat.

I stared, rooted with horror, as the glowing flower broke the glittering surface

of the water. The skin of its petals was like human flesh, as white as Charis', and

they surrounded a dark mouthlike hole full of something like teeth. The hungry

flower began to swing back and forth... seeking out the source of the tasty blood, I

realized. Which was me, of course. As soon as I sorted this out I unrooted myself

from the ground and ran up along the bank of the river.

Soon I heard a great hissing behind me, like a chorus of snakes. I turned my

head as I ran and looked back. The glass lizards (their skins now translucently

white like Charis') had followed my trail to the edge of the river. There were half a

dozen of them there, facing maybe twice as many of the hungry white flowers. The

lizards and the flowers both seemed to be trying to eat each other.

I'd have cheered the flowers on, but just then something whacked me in the

head as I ran. I bounced away and fell to the rocky ground, looking around groggi­

ly for what had hit me. It looked, at first, like a stone doorpost. Then I realized: it

was the end of a stone railing for a bridge, covered with the same obscure (Old

Ontilian?) carvings as the bridges in the sewer.

Bridge. River. Cross. I had just enough brains left in my head to connect those

dots. I leapt to my feet again and raced across the bridge. As I glanced back at the

lizards and the flowers, I saw that the soldiers had joined the fight on the side of

their glass lizards.

Now, if ever, was my chance to get away. I ran off the far side of the bridge and

away from the icy river as fast as I could. I don't know how fast this really was; I

was nearly used up. But I kept going; that was the main thing.

But pretty soon I realized I wasn't going to get much farther. Not because I was

all used up, though that was nearly true, but because of another obstacle in my

path. It was another river, a river of fire. It was the color of blood and a good deal

hotter. It was the fiery river's fierce red light that dimly lit the gloomy cave.

The fire was welcome at first: I felt my own blood pick up warmth from the heat,

my shivering limbs took strength from it. But then it got hotter as I got closer. Long

before I got to the fiery bank I had to turn away and run a parallel course.

I was beginning to think this was the end. I didn't know what was ahead, but

if the soldiers and their glass lizards got across the icy river, they could probably

trap me between the two streams.

I looked back to see what was happening. The soldiers had gotten away from

the flowers and they were now on the bridge. There were a lot of soldiers; more than

I remembered. Only one glass lizard seemed to have survived the fight with flow­

ers... but it was on my side of the river and coming up fast. It was the one with the

human hand in its belly; it was translucently red, from the light of the blood­bright

river.

You want to keep your eyes on the ground when you're running over rough ter­

rain. I knew that, even then, but I was too stupid with weariness to remember it. I

tripped and went down, of course, with the glass lizard right behind me. I rolled

desperately to my right, toward the fiery river. I latched onto a loose rock and sat

up, expecting the thing to be at my throat.

It nearly was, snapping and slavering at me with its glassy fangs. I bounced the

rock off its blunt bright snout and it started back. Without getting up (no time for

that) I crab­walked away from it toward the fiery river, its heat scorching my back.

I reached out with my left hand, scrabbling for another rock.

The glass lizard sort of dodged in toward me... and then slid back to where it had

been, hissing. A mist, stinking like poison, came out of the blister­like sacs around

its neck and drifted toward me. I scooted out the stuff's way as soon as I caught a

whiff of it, found my rock, and waited for the thing to attack again.

It didn't. As I crawled up along the fiery river it kept pace with me, but didn't

move in toward me. Like I say, I was stupid with fatigue, so it took me a couple of

minutes to figure this out. Then I realized: it was repelled by the heat of the blood­

bright river. I could get closer to the fire than the lizard could.

"Hey!"I said. "Don't like the heat, do you?"

Recklessly, I threw my rock at the thing. The lizard wriggled out of its way, but

didn't charge me, even though I was unarmed.

I chuckled, maybe a little crazily, and started to crawl closer to the fiery river. I

couldn't have gotten to my feet if I'd tried, and I didn't feel like trying. My hazy idea,

which looks even hazier as I recall it, was that what worked against the lizard might

work against the soldiers --- that I might be able to get closer to the fire than they

could.

I inched closer to the fiery river. But it wasn't really fire: I could see that now. It

was thicker than water, too --- more viscous, somehow. It was like the streams of

melted rock that come out of the Burning Mountains sometimes: "lava"they called

it in Four Castles. It was beautiful and terrible; I felt like my eyes were burning out

from staring at it. Hot tears streamed down my face, because I wanted to get near­

er to it but I couldn't stand to.

There was life in the burning river. There were fiery flowers carpeting its banks,

and little bright things flying from flower to flower, like bees made out of lava. I could

see salamanders swimming in the stream. One of them looked at me with such a

bright intelligent eye that I almost called out to it for help. But I couldn't speak,

either; my throat was raw and choked from breathing in the burning air. I collapsed

in a heap. The motion attracted some of the lava­bees. A cloud of them drifted

toward me. I wondered what would happen if they landed on me, but there was

nothing I could do to prevent it.

It didn't matter anyway. I heard the rapid footfalls of men coming up behind me.

If this was the end, I'd just as soon be killed by the lava­bees as taken by the

Imperial troops and their glass lizards.

Then Morlock was there, his crooked form a dark silhouette against the bright

red cloud of lava­bees. He snapped his cloak at them, scattering the cloud, and

snatched one out of the air as they fled. He threw it straight over me and I heard a

cracking sound behind me, like a heavy piece of glass breaking. I rolled over to see

what had happened: the lava­bee had passed through the glass lizard, shattering its

midsection. The glass lizard lay in pieces on the stones, opaque, inflexible and dead.

Beyond it stood my uncle Roble, looking down at the dead lizard with a bemused

expression. Behind him an Imperial soldier was approaching. I gestured wildly, tried

to speak, but couldn't.

The soldier came up and clapped Roble on the shoulder. "That Morlock!"he said.

"Full of surprises! Did I tell you how I cut his head off, once?"

"Only about forty times,"Roble replied. "But the day's young."He stepped over

the dead lizard and bent down over you. "Fasra! Are you hurt?"

I croaked at him.

"She needs water,"said Morlock, master of makers and of the obvious. "Let's get

her out of this heat."

They dragged me to a cooler place in the wedge of land between the rivers, and

the soldier handed me his water bottle to drink from. I recognized him then: he was

Thrennick, the Keep we had met in the marketplace.

I drank, cleared my throat and spat, and drank again.

"How did you find me?"I said when I could speak (sort of).

"By accident,"said Morlock wryly.

"We weren't looking for you, Fasra,"Roble said. "Or rather, we thought you were

with Naeli."

"I was. Only ---"

"You don't have to explain a thing to me, you crazy little wench; you're just like

your crazy mother. I'm just glad you're all right and I hope it did some good."

I drank in more water, and also the idea that I was, indeed, all right.

"Why soldiers our friends now?"I asked, after I caught a little more breath. "If

are?"

Roble said, "Morlock showed Thrennick the map, as proof that Guards­com­

mander Vennon had been taking money from the Sandboys. Then Thrennick showed

it to the second­in­command, and it was enough to get him to arrest his boss. Then

he gave Thrennick a commission to take command of all the parties searching for

Charis. He was furious at Vennon."

"Oh?"I said.

"Well, the poor guy hadn't been cut in,"Thrennick explained. "Commander

Vennon never was very bright that way. And when we searched his quarters we

found letters proving he and another man had been acting as the Khroi's agents in

the city."

"Who's the other man?"

"Well, the fellow didn't sign his name, and Vennon claims he doesn't know it, but

Morlock said he recognized the handwriting."

"Who?"

"It was Charis,"Morlock said.

I felt stupider than ever. Morlock had gone to Charis for information on the

Khroi. Charis had tried to cheat him, and when that failed he had gotten the infor­

mation. This had brought him under the hostile attention of the agent of the Khroi

in Sarkunden... who was Charis, apparently.

"Charis is trying to kill himself?"I said stupidly.

Morlock shrugged and didn't otherwise answer.

"Not exactly, miss,"Thrennick said patiently. "You have to understand, Vennon

was a spy and a traitor, but an honest one. When Charis bribed him to get infor­

mation about the Khroi, he sold Charis the information. But then he reported to the

Khroi through their agent that Charis was collecting information about them for

someone else. The agent told Vennon to pick Charis up and interrogate him and

Vennon tried to do it, first with the Sandboys (who'd been in his pocket for years, or

vice versa) and then with the Imperial troops."

Something about this explanation didn't satisfy me, although Roble was nodding

sagely as Thrennick spoke. Morlock wasn't nodding or making any other sign that

he agreed, so I asked him, "What do you think?"

Reluctantly Morlock said, "Thrennick may be right, as far as he goes. But the

writing in the agent's messages to Vennon is Charis'. I think Charis wrote the mes­

sage that lured us into the city, also. And I read the life­scroll of the watch­golem in

Charis' house, the one you stopped. It was instructed to kill any human who entered

the house; there was no exception specified for Charis himself. He wrote that, too."

"Maybe it was just an accident?"

"Eh. Charis doesn't make mistakes with golems. If he made that golem, and pre­

sumably the other golems in the house, a danger to himself, it must have been delib­

erate in some way."

"Why?"

I thought he was just going to shrug again, and if he had I swear I would have

gotten up on my feet and beaten the snot out of him. But what he said was, "Charis

sold off little bits of himself until there was nothing left but the bargains he had

made, and the fear of breaking them."

"So?"

"Death ends fear. Maybe you can't understand that."

I tried to tell him that I did understand, and that I wasn't sure he was right

about Charis, and how Charis had understood how I felt about Naeli and being

grateful, and that was why I had done what I'd done, but I wasn't sure it was enough

---

"No,"said Morlock interrupting me.

"No?"I asked, a little angry. Who was he to tell me how I felt?

"You owe Naeli nothing. She owes you nothing. That's not why you risked every­

thing to save her. You are not debts on each other's balance sheets."

"What is it then?"Roble asked.

Morlock shrugged. "The bond of blood. Blood has no price! You don't buy it or

sell it. When the need arises you shed your own to protect your own, and you don't

count the cost."

I was appalled. Charis' balance sheets of debt and obligation I could understand.

The fierce credo of blood­loyalty announced by this cold­eyed white­faced man was

too irrational. I couldn't believe it any more than I could have reached the river of

fire running behind us: it was completely impractical. Suppose you didn't like some­

one you were related to? What about people you weren't related to: what did you owe

them?

Roble seemed to be thinking along these lines. He said to Morlock, "What about

you and us? We're not your blood."

"Aren't you?"Morlock asked.

"Are we?"

Morlock looked away toward the burning river. After a moment he said, "My peo­

ple --- the people that raised me --- said there were two kinds of blood: given and

chosen. The blood you're born into is given. The kinship you choose is no less bind­

ing."

"Makes sense,"said Roble casually, and turned to Thrennick, who was standing

nearby with a few of his soldiers, all of whom wore rather blank looks. "You've

caught up with Vennon's troops and cancelled their orders,"he said, "so what hap­

pens next?"

"Officially,"Thrennick said, "I'm to take you all into custody and bring you back

for questioning."

"And unofficially?"Roble asked.

"Unofficially, I'm supposed to slip a knife into Morlock here and bring his head

back to the new commander as proof he's dead."

"And actually?"

"Oh, I suppose you all will have gotten away while I wasn't looking. I'd like to

bring Charis back, though. It might mean a promotion for me; the new commander

would like to know what kind of information he was selling to the Khroi, and for how

long."

"He'll be with Naeli at our rendezvous point,"Morlock said.

"Let me send my men with these trackers back to their barracks; me and one of

my soldiers will tag along with you."

He must have gone to do that, because the next thing I remember was someone

whining with a Sarkunden accent, "Why do I always get picked for these rotten

jobs?"

"Because,"Thrennick replied, "I like to know who's behind me and, whenever

there's a fight, there you are behind me. You and my butt, Tervin."

I tried to get to my feet, but Roble just picked me up and started to carry me. I

tried to tell him I was still bleeding and he'd get stuff all over him, but he just told

me to shut my pie­hole. My pie­hole, like the rest of me, was pretty damn tired by

then, so I did as he suggested and pretty soon fell asleep.

· · ·

"I don't like the sound of it,"Thrennick was saying when I woke up.

We were still underground, not too far from the fiery river; I could tell by the red

gloom in the air. We were standing at the foot of a steep black cliff. The men were

all staring upward with listening looks, so I tried to listen, too. What I thought I

heard, from high above in the red gloom, was the clash of metal on metal.

"If your people are fighting someone,"Thrennick was saying to Roble, "I don't

think they're our soldiers."

"Then,"said Morlock, and gestured at either side of the cliff. Following his ges­

ture, I saw there were two narrow paths climbing upward.

"Huh?"said Thrennick and then, "Oh, I get it. We go this way, you go that way.

All right, why not?"

"Uncle Roble,"I said, as the two soldiers turned to the left and started scaling

the narrow path, "I can walk."

"Good,"said my uncle grimly. "I think I'm going to have to use my hands."

He meant he'd need to fight, of course, but we used both hands and feet to

scramble that steep crooked rockslide pretending to be a path. I was thinking about

asking Roble whether he wanted to give his favorite niece a piggyback ride when I

noticed the clashing had gotten a lot louder.

"This is it,"Roble said to Morlock, who nodded. They both looked back at me.

"Stay out of this,"Roble said firmly, and Morlock said the same thing without say­

ing anything.

"Hey!"I said. "As if I want to get my head cut off after everything I've been

through."

That wasn't really an answer, of course, but what did they think... that I want­

ed to get my head cut off, after everything I'd been through?

Morlock, who was in the lead, drew his sword. It was weird looking, more like

dark glass than metal, with pale veins of lighter crystal running through it. Roble

drew his shorter, broader blade and leaped up to stand by Morlock on the narrow

ledge. They stood there for a second and I almost caught up with them, poking my

head up over the level of the ledge. Between their legs I could just see what was

going on, but I didn't understand it at first.

This is what I saw, or thought I saw: my mother and my brothers and Charis,

surrounded by a bunch of little men all wearing the same weird costumes. It was a

funny dark purplish color and shiny, like the shell of a beetle. They had knobby

armored legs, and each costume had three legs and three arms. And on their heads

they wore buglike pyramidal masks with one eye on each face of the pyramids. The

ends of their arms were covered by metallic sheaths with long clawlike protrusions.

They could stab with the points like foils, or slash with the edges like sabers.

Then I realized the obvious: they weren't men, and those weren't costumes. But

they were attacking my mother and brothers. There were so many of them --- I'm not

sure how many, but a lot. Only the narrowness of the ledge was working in my fam­

ily's favor. But, Death and Justice, they looked desperate, and my mother and

Thend had blood on their faces. They were facing us, with these beasties facing

them. Beyond them Stador and Bann were fighting against another crowd of mon­

sters on the other side of the ledge. In the middle sat Charis, doing nothing for any­

body, even himself. It wasn't clear if the bug­things were trying to capture him or

rescue him from Naeli & co., but he couldn't have been more indifferent either way.

"Khroi,"Morlock muttered to Roble. "Watch out: they have three arms."

"Noticed,"Roble replied, obviously pleased to be more taciturn than Morlock for

once.

"Eh,"Morlock replied wittily, and they charged into the battle.

There were at least five ranks of the buglike Khroi between Roble and Morlock

and the rest of my family. The men took out the first two ranks before the Khroi

knew they were there.

What, you think they should have announced themselves and cried out a chal­

lenge, all orderly and sportsmanlike? Try it when your family's life is at stake.

Personally I was glad those sneaky bastards were on our side.

I was glad, but I wanted to do something. The joy on Naeli's wounded face when

she saw Roble and Morlock was a beautiful and painful thing to see. I wanted to

earn a piece of that, honestly; I was always pretty jealous where my mama was con­

cerned, I guess. But it was more than that: Naeli was fighting for her life, for my

brother's lives, and what was I supposed to do, just stand there on a pile of rocks?

Then it occurred to me: I was standing on a pile of rocks.

I wasn't reckless about it; I realized that a bunch of ill­thrown missiles could

hurt my people more than the buglike Khroi. But some well­thrown ones... they

might at least have some surprise effect.

There was a long heavy pointed rock digging into my knee. I grabbed it and lift­

ed myself up onto the ledge. Picking my time, I hurled the stone at the Khroi who

was fighting Naeli. The blunt end struck the Khroi on one of its eyes. It swung half

around, its three arms waving. Naeli stabbed low, just above its tripod legs and it

crumpled.

"Hey!"I shouted, and added a suggestion the Khroi probably would have found

impossible, even if their reproductive system was like ours. (It isn't, I found out

later.)

Now instead of looking happy Naeli looked worried. That made me mad, and I

took it out on some more Khroi. I didn't feel like I could reach the Khroi on the far

side of the ledge (not without risking a strike on Stador and Bann) but I kept the

rocks flying at the narrowing field of Khroi on the near side of the ledge.

Then Roble hewed one in half, and the fight on our side of the ledge was over:

the Khroi had been reduced to severed bug­parts scattered over the stone.

Roble and Morlock charged past Naeli, Thend and Charis without so much as

a Hi, how are you?

"Bann, give way!"Roble shouted. I knew he wanted to take Bann's place in the

front line, probably have Morlock take Stador's. The ledge wasn't wide enough for

the men to shoulder past the boys.

But Bann didn't fall back and he didn't answer. Maybe he didn't hear --- it was

pretty hard to hear anything over the clashing metal. Maybe he felt like he could­

n't risk stepping back. Anyway, he wasn't moving. And he was bleeding; so was

Stador: I could see it staining their shirts.

Here's where it gets a little weird. Morlock takes his sword and stabs it into the

ground. Then he runs up and launches himself over Stador's shoulder, like he's

playing leapfrog. In midair he shouts, "Tyrfing!"and the sword flies out of the

ground and into his hand as he lands. And he hits like a boulder, takes down a

couple of the Khroi as he lands. Then he grips the sword (it is called Tyrfing, but I

have no idea how he gets it to come when he calls) with both hands and starts

swinging it like a reaper harvesting wheat.

Stador was on the ground, now, and Bann was slumping beside him. Roble

shook his head and jumped over them shouting, "Behind you!"(So, like, Morlock

wouldn't cut his head off.) Morlock shifted back to a single grip as Roble took a

stand beside him and they settled down to the business of clearing all the Khroi off

the other side of the ledge.

There were more Khroi over there than there had been on the near side of the

ledge, but pretty soon they had help: the Imperial soldiers, Thrennick and Tervin

were attacking the Khroi from the other side.

I cheered them on with a few more obscenities I'd learned while working in the

cathouse, and then decided to help out with a few well­thrown rocks. I was bending

over, scrabbling for a good missile, when something grabbed me by the ankle.

I was bent over, so I looked through my own bloodstained legs at the thing. It

was one of the Khroi who'd been cut almost in half. It had lost the metal sheath from

the ends of its arm (it only had one left, and no legs at all). There were six or seven

snaky things, like boneless fingers sprouting out of the end of its arm, and it was

gripping my ankle with those.

I tried to shake loose, but it was terribly strong. It dragged me down to the

ground and started to pull me toward the edge of the cliff.

I screamed, of course. Who wouldn't? The trouble was, my scream wasn't terri­

bly loud. The fall had knocked my breath out of me, and the battle noise was reach­

ing a crescendo just then. I could see Naeli bending over Stador and binding up one

of his wounds. Bann and Thend were sitting nearby, gasping for breath and staring

at nothing. Nobody seemed to hear me or see me. It was as if my death were taking

place in some secret place worlds away from these people who had been my family.

Then somebody landed on top of the Khroi, making its carapace crunch horri­

bly. It was Charis. The Khroi released my ankle to pound feebly at Charis, who rolled

with it over to the cliff's edge and pushed it off.

But it had caught hold of him just long enough to keep his momentum going.

His feet tumbled over the edge and his body began to follow as he clutched desper­

ately for a hold on the bare dirt and rock of the ledge.

This, I guess, was the moment for a Charis­like calculation of who owed what to

whom. Should I have tried to figure out if Charis was still in my debt? (I had, after

all, saved his life twice, and he'd only saved mine once --- but I hadn't acted in order

to save his life whereas he...) Well, I didn't. I didn't even think about Thrennick

wanting Charis alive. There was a roaring, like a river of fire, in my ears and I rolled

over to seize the arm of this evil icy man who was, apparently, one of my blood ---

chosen, if not given.

He was saying something. I didn't pay any attention; I was trying to dig my feet

into the ground. I hoped my weight, pressing down on the rough surface of the

ledge, would be enough to anchor his.

The trouble was: it wasn't. In a silence that seemed to fill the whole world I heard

the most horrible sound I've ever heard: my body scraping over the stones of the

ledge.

"Help here!"I shrieked, into the sudden silence, and slipped a little further

toward the gulf. I really should let go now, I told myself. Can't do this, can't go over

the edge with him. But I clung even harder to his arm, so hard that my fingers

seemed to sink deep into the flesh. That seemed weird, even then, but I didn't have

time to think why.

Then Naeli was there, grabbing onto my feet, arresting my slide toward the cliff.

I sobbed gratefully and hung on to Charis' arm.

But he was still sliding away from me. I didn't understand it. I wasn't moving,

but he was still sliding off the edge of the cliff.

Then his arm ripped away from his body. I was left with it and, no doubt, a dopey

look on my face. I'll never forget Charis' expression as he slipped, one­armed, away

from me into the abyss.

Morlock was abruptly there, one leg thrown forward so that his foot was at the

brink, he bent over and seized Charis by the neck. As Charis gasped and choked

Morlock lifted him out of the brink and tossed him beside me on the ledge.

I was still gripping the severed arm tensely. When I realized this I let it go, kicked

Naeli away hysterically and jumped to my feet. I didn't know what Charis was, but

I didn't want to be near him.

Morlock, however, seemed to have no such qualms. He was kneeling down beside

Charis. At first I thought that he was holding Charis' one remaining hand: a pretty

sentimental act for a man like Morlock, but you never know. Then I realized: he was

feeling for a pulse.

And not finding one, apparently. "Remarkable!"he said to Charis' tormented

face. "The skin temperature is lifelike. If there were a heartbeat, the likeness would

be perfect."

"I was working on that,"Charis said sullenly. "It's a minor issue."

"Your still have a heart, though?"Morlock inquired, with an air of polite interest.

"Oh, yes,"Charis replied. "I couldn't dispense with it. The entire torso is essen­

tially intact."

"May I?"asked Morlock.

"If --- Oh, I suppose it doesn't matter,"Charis said gloomily.

Morlock reached into the horrible man's open shirt and felt around a little.

"That's not human skin,"he said flatly, withdrawing his hand.

"Well, I decided to venture on a clay integument for my torso,"Charis admitted,

"but the organs are still functioning. They have less to do now, of course."

"You anticipate an extended lifespan?"Morlock asked. "Less wear and tear on

the organs? You may be right. Anyway, this is an admirable achievement. Really

remarkable."

That was when I started to laugh quietly to myself. A remarkable achievement!

That thing!

"What's wrong?"Bann said to me. "What's happening?"

"Don't you see?"I said, or shrieked, I'm not sure which. "He's turned himself into

a golem."

Morlock looked over at me. "Not entirely,"he said mildly. "Charis' limbs and skin

may be golemic but the rest of him, his core, is as it was. Do you,"he said to Charis,

"get full sensation from your clay skin?"

Charis shuddered. "No, thank God. Really, Morlock the Maker!"he said, draw­

ing himself up, "I don't think you fully appreciate what you call my achievement."

"Explain it, then,"Morlock suggested.

"Do you suppose that I myself did these delicate operations on my own frame? I

had to have golems do it. For each operation I created a team of golem­surgeons with

careful and elaborately written life­scrolls. The slightest error in any golem's com­

position and I would not have survived a single operation."

"What makes you think you did survive?"I shouted. Then I put my hand over

my mouth and sat down. I didn't feel that great; I don't suppose any of us did. Naeli

and Thend both came and sat down on either side of me, each one putting an arm

around me. That made me feel a little better.

Charis droned on wearily. "My face became so many masks. It wasn't mine any­

more. As the Khroi's agent I spied on the city. As your debtor, I spied on the Khroi.

As the Khroi's agent, I had to hunt down the man spying on them. If my plans had

succeeded, all my debts would be paid. I would have given you your information,

surrendered you to the Khroi, and destroyed the spy in the city. But now all my bar­

gains are broken."

"You would have destroyed yourself to fulfill a bargain?"Morlock asked.

"My crowning deed as a maker,"Charis replied, smiling faintly. "When this...

business interrupted me, I was writing the life­scroll of a golem which could replace

my entire face."

"Oh."

Charis seemed to think Morlock was insufficiently impressed. "Don't you see?

The delicacy of the operation --- the need to inculcate the golem with my every skill

so that the new face would be such a masterwork of artifice that no one would real­

ize it was artificial!"

"Why?"

Charis glared at the crooked man as if insulted by so obvious a question. "All of

you!"he shouted, waving his remaining arm. "The Khroi. The Guards. Vennon. The

water­gangs. You. All of you, everywhere, surrounding me with open mouths like

baby birds squawking, `I want this, I want that, Do this, Don't do that, Tell me this,

Don't tell him that, Give this to me, Take this from me.' Everyone screaming me me

me and none of them me."

Morlock opened his hands and waited: he still didn't understand.

"It was my chance to escape,"Charis said wearily. "The new face didn't have to

look like my old face. Everyone knew who I was, but if I succeeded no one would

know who I was. I wouldn't owe anybody anything; nobody would owe me anything.

I could have been anyone. Anyone."

"Who is it you want to be?"Morlock asked patiently.

Charis thought for a moment. "No one,"he said finally. He pushed himself over

with his remaining arm, spun off the edge and was lost in the red gloom. We heard

his body make wet solid impact with the cliff several times as he fell.

"There goes my chance at a promotion,"said Thrennick wistfully after a few

moments of silence. "Master Morlock ---"

"I am not your master."

"Fine; I just want you to do me a favor."

"What?"

"If you ever come back to Sarkunden ---"

"Yes?"

"Please don't look me up. I mean, I still have nightmares about the last time."

· · ·

The soldiers went back to the city through the sewers, but we took another narrow

rocky passage up into the light. I couldn't believe how good the fresh air tasted and

felt in my lungs, and my eyes drank down the light till I could feel it in my toes. Then

I looked at the others and I noticed they were all bleeding as much as I was, if not

more. This seemed to me very funny and terribly sad, more or less at the same time,

but Naeli said a little hysteria under the circumstances wasn't unreasonable.

We were in a cave facing the north. Outside there were mountains piercing the

horizon like pale thorns. Through them led the Kirach Kund, the River of Skulls ---

as dangerous as its name sounded or more. But as long as there was no one there

who would try to buy or sell me or himself, I wouldn't complain.