Prologue

If I wanted Nilo's stones, I was going to have to kill Satre. There was
no way around it. Unfortunately, Satre was as close to immortal as he
could be.

I was eating by myself in a hole-in-the-wall cafe. It wasn't terribly
clean, and each of the four tables had its own recognizable set of
stains. I liked the stains. I'd watch them as I came in over the weeks,
and they'd grow and develop like little children.

Azhi walked in, noticed me, and came over.

"Morning. May I join you?"

"Please."

He smiled, and dropped his sweater before walking over to the counter. A
few minutes later he was back.

"How are you this morning?" He had a cup of coffee and a greasy
sandwich. Azhi wore track pants and running shoes. Faded lettering on
his shirt said something, but now there was no way to know what. His
skin was the color of fresh hoed earth.

"Well. And you?"

He didn't answer but grinned.

"Are you going or coming back from a run?"

"Both."

I smiled at him and continued eating.

"This morning I did a few laps around the fortress. Decent run."

"And the wildlife?"

"Motivation to run faster." Azhi grinned.

"They would be."

"The problem with the smaller ones is they build up into a pack. By the
time I was done and came back through the gates, Duncton had to use the
ballista to keep them from getting through. It was great fun. A while
horde of the little ones, none more than twenty feet long chasing me,
Duncton's on the wall with the catapults going and rocks raining
everywhere. By the time I got to the bridge, he was already spinning
it." Azhi's eyes were alive and burning with fierce entertainment. "One
of the bigger ones, big enough that I'm surprised he hadn't turned on
the others first, chased me up it. You should have been there."

"Probably not. Every time I go to Wilno they call the army out looking
for me."

"Oh. That would be a problem." Azhi let a frown flicker across his face.
"But if you could have, you would have seen everything. The big one, the
one that chased me, took a rock to the face as he landed on the top edge
of the bridge. It stunned him just long enough for me to jump. I
actually went off his face." He laughed. "When I was safe on the wall, I
looked back and I swear I could see the look on his face. Big toothy
lizard both confused and chagrined, snapping at me too late. It was
great."

"How did Duncton take it?"

"He yelled at me for a while. He told me I had to come find you, or he'd
never let me into the city again."

Surprised, I raised an eyebrow.

"He mentioned that one of his men, James Ryan, has some problems that he
implied are up your alley. I'm supposed to ask you to help him."

"Duncton wants me to do him a favor?"

"Yeah."

"And what is he going to do for me in return?"

"Didn't say."

"What does James need help with?"

"As far as I know, his love life."

I raised my eyebrow again and waited.

"He's trying to get something going with Varya. He may even have
something going. Information on her is hard to get and its never wise to
exclusively trust someone involved in this sort of thing."

I blinked. "With Varya?"

"Absolutely. Surprised us too."

Surprised was too mild a word. Suddenly realizing he hadn't touched his
food yet, Azhi began eating. He ate fast, taking big bites and chewing
with obvious relish. "This is good stuff. I see why you come here so
much."

"Thank you. Louie is amazing." I nodded towards the man behind the
counter, a fat Italian who was yelling into his phone.

"Yeah."

"If you would excuse me for a moment, please." I smiled at him and
received a forgiving wave in response.

I rose and walked to the back. The dingy bathroom wasn't very clean but
unoccupied, and I locked the door behind me. Inside, I went to the
mirror, and looked into it, leaning on the counter. Burning eyes looked
back at me. My reflection was a twisted fragment of a dead man.

"We need Nilo's stones to free you."

"Get them." The reflection answered.

"Satre has them."

"Kill him."

"I can't. You could, but we need the stones to free you and it goes
round and round from there."

The reflection scowled.

"Daren, how am I going to do this?"

"Not my area."

"Of course not."

I looked down at myself. I had a simple blue top, just purchased, and it
had not been in my possession long enough to be reflected back. I was
thankful for small favors, as I would have had real problems planning
while Daren stared at me in a baby doll shirt.

"Duncton wants me to help one of his men out. . It shouldn't be hard."

"Duncton wants you to help him? The fool." Daren snorted and scowled
deeper. "I held his life in my hands and now understand a true meaning
of endless pain that-"

"Please. This is my area. I think I'm going to do this for him."

Daren stared at me, confused.

"Then they'll both owe us a favor. This will be fine. I'll take care of
it."

"But if he's come here, he's vulnerable. This is our place now. You can
kill him."

"He didn't come himself. He sent Azhi."

Daren thought this over, trying to decide if he had any problems with
Azhi.

"Who's Azhi?"

"A commoner. A runner."

"Do as you see fit, then."

Daren watched me turn away and walk softly from the bathroom. In the
main dining area Azhi had left, leaving enough money on the table for
both of our meals as well as a generous tip. A dirty slip of paper had
'James' and a phone number. I took it and left.

Bright sunlight was everywhere outside, warming me and filling my eyes
with bright colors and crisp details. Enough people were out and about
to fill the streets and sidewalks. I lost myself in the crowd and walked
aimlessly.

I had been raised in entirely too much sunlight. The sun had been
everywhere, bright and burning gold, and so intense my memories only
came back when it beat down on me. In the desert at noon I could
remember my mother's face.

Here in the streets of a nameless city, filled with people and their
shadows, I could at best recall Duncton. He was older than me but not by
much. We had been close then.

Duncton liked to watch things. He studied the movements of ants across
leaves for hours, memorizing their patterns. One day he had announced he
had mastered them, and charged us parts of our lunches to perform
tricks, making them march in endless circles and even managed to write
my name with their little squirming bodies. He knew flowers and grass.
Green and growing things fell under his eyes, and he came to me again
and again with pride in this thing he could do. Shadow plays and puppet
shows, he made screens of flower petals that cast shadows in the forms
of our faces. More than anyone else he experimented with the walls of
glass and built us shelters from the watchers outside.

A while ago he had ordered me killed, but it was a half hearted thing
and he accepted a faked death without investigation. Now he sent Azhi to
ask me a favor.

I looked around. There was a mall not far away, and I went to it. Inside
there was a cheap jewelry store where I bought two exceptionally bright
earrings. I pocketed them and called James.

After a few rings he answered. His voice was scratchy. "Hello?"

"James Ryan. This is Helen. How are you?"

He took his time to respond, letting the awkward silence get ripe.
"Fine."

"I'd like to talk to you." Since he was not indulging in manners or
pleasantries, I would get to the point. "Would you like to meet me
somewhere?"

"How about the guard headquarters?"

"A bit too public for me. Why don't we talk somewhere secluded?"

"Because you're the embodiment of evil."

Touche. "Is that so bad?"

"Well, yeah."

"And how is my darling sister?"

"As beautiful as ever. The sun hides it's face from her out of
jealousy."

"And you still worship the ground she walks on?"

"Naturally."

"How's that going for you?"

"She stabbed me with a tire iron."

"Oh."

"But it wasn't that sharp."

"Ah?"

"Only hit my stomach. I'm feeling fit as ever."

"And you don't want to meet me why again?"

"Hey, I know where you are taking this. It wasn't her fault. It was
nothing personal, I had just messed up her plans."

"Her plans?"

"She had two earls feuding, and one, Desiax, had challenged the Cassinos
while Cassino the younger was away. To the death, daybreak, swords and
axes, no judges, that kind of thing. Cassino the elder would have
accepted, which meant Desiax would have made meat out of him. But
Cassino the younger wouldn't have put up with that, and without judges
he could probably gotten away with calling vendetta, and then everybody
would have died. Varya was backing either Desiax or the Cassinos as
things warranted." One thing I loved about James was the ease with which
you could pump him for information. He held secrets like a sieve. "The
elder Cassino owed me a favor, though, and I wanted him to be alive so I
could collect, so I stood in as his champion."

"Risky," I said. "Desiax is a dangerous man."

"I know. But I found him on the street before the duel could start. He
was armed, I wasn't, so all I had to do was break his legs and the duel
went off. He couldn't very well call vendetta on me, I'm nobody. And
since he was the only one armed, well him and his friends, he couldn't
declare it a street crime without being laughed out of town. So he
claimed sickness, by the time he could walk Cassino the younger was
back, and the duel went before Mandrake. Mandrake, being his lovable
self, declared himself the judge, and both sides dropped the issue."

"And then my sister got mad?"

"No. It turned out that she convinced the Viceroy Cralsbad by the docks
to use the distraction to declare vendetta on Cassino. Desiax felt that
his feud was being usurped and Cralsbad's reputation would rub off on
him, so he challenged Cralsbad, the Cassino's were too disdainful to
back Cralsbad, and Mandrake was about to declare public insurrection and
put them all down, so I had to stop the whole thing. After I did that,
the other two wouldn't do anything, because Mandrake told them not too.
But Cralsbad had that legion of thieves about him, so I couldn't get
close."

"So?"

"I threw a rock at him."

I had no response to that.

"Anyway, with her plan disrupted, Varya, lost her temper and stabbed me
with a tire iron while I was visiting my Dad."

"What was the point of all this? She intended to move in with those
three parties out of the way?"

"No, I think she was just bored."

"And the sun refuses to shine on her?"

Wearily, James replied, "Yeah."

"And you're in love with her anyway?"

"Yes."

"Even after she nearly killed you with a tire iron?"

"She didn't nearly kill me!"

"How long were you in the hospital?"

"Six weeks."

"Major surgery?"

"Three times, minor, five."

"Sounds to me like you should send her flowers."

"I tried. No one will deliver, and her guards have standing orders to
shooting me on sight."

"And you're going to let a little thing like that deter you?"

"Yes."

"How about the lilies of Carcosa?"

"What are they?"

"Flowers. Flowers that Alyssa has wanted for years, but no one can get
them to grow in Wilno or in the environs. If Varya had them, and wore
them publicly, she'd upstage Alyssa."

James considered. I could hear rusty gears grinding into motion with
torturous difficulty. "Alyssa wouldn't like that at all, would she?"

"No. But Varya would."

"And you can get me these flowers?"

"No, but I can tell you how to get them yourself. Relatively easily.
Besides, isn't this the sort of thing you'd want to do yourself anyway?"

James was silent, which meant he was probably nodding to me over the
phone again.

"So, why don't you come talk to me. Say, the main fountain of Kratos, at
noon?"

"Why can't we talk over the phone?"

"But darling, I'll need to give you a few things you'll need to get to
the orchids. Maps and suchlike. Besides, I'm lonely for your company."

For a few more moments James was silent. "Very well."

"I'll check the fountain each day at noon. Come as soon as you can. You
won't keep a lady waiting, will you?"

"I still don't trust you."

"Of course you don't, darling. But I'll see you soon. Come alone, I hate
crowds."

I hung up and smiled. Then I frowned. "And he didn't want to meet me
because I'm the embodiment of evil? With his taste in women, I should
have to beat him off with a stick."

"He'd probably like that." Came the soft, sibilant voice in my ears.

"True."

I found an airport and flew to the coast. It was simple to find a yacht
manufacturer and acquire a small craft I could sail alone. By evening I
was provisioned. It was named Galleon.

The yacht was an eighteen footer, capable of sailing or running under a
motor. I took an immediate affection for it. We left on the morning
tide, and I went looking for the largest, worst storm these seas had
ever seen. Instead I found a mild rainy squall with a light accompanying
fog. The fog was barely thick enough to obscure the rigging. Discontent,
I pulled around and ran before the wind.

Steadily, the winds grew sluggish. As they died, the rain stopped, and
soon the sun was burning away the fog. I was trapped and began to feel
nauseous when I looked at the water. I dialed the international weather
service on the radio, and stared at what came out; clear skies and mild
winds. The sick feeling got a little stronger.

For a while I sat alone in the cabin, poring through an atlas. The
nearest reasonably active volcano was thousands of miles away. War zones
weren't consistently chaotic enough for my purposes. Biologicals were
unpredictable. I glanced back at the weather report. The world was
basking in beautiful weather. Outside, mild winds were pushing me along
towards deep ocean.

Grumbling softly, I went back onto the deck. I read for a while, some
dreck involving conspiracies and historical treasure maps. I checked the
weather again. To be thorough, I called a couple of geophysicists I
knew. All the volcanoes were quiet. The fault lines were asleep. I
finished the chapter. The hero let the bad guys live, ran off with the
girl, and lived happily ever after. With any luck, they'd be divorced
within six months and the bad guys would escape jail. At least then
someone would write another book. The weather was still clear for a
hundred miles in every direction. When the sun finally set, I tied off
the wheel and went below.

The cabin was sparse. It had a bed, two drawers, and barely enough
kitchen to be called one. I carefully took a thick black package from
one of the drawers. There were nine straps holding the case closed, and
I undid each one carefully. Within that was light tight fabric, sewn
shut around a hard plastic case. On the case was a combination lock,
which I set to one three one and opened. Inside was a heavy black
crystal. To the left was a mirror, slightly larger than a face. It
curved and magnified whoever looked in. I cradled it.

All I could see within were my eyes. Tilting it slightly, I focused on
my right and pulled it away from me. The perspective narrowed until I
could see my iris, and then my pupil, and finally the burning speck of
light at the center of that. Bending my concentration into it, the tiny
fire burned brighter. Soon it cast enough light to pick out the wick it
burned. Beneath that was wax basin in the center of a tallow candle
stalk. Around were shadowed faces carved base relief into heavy stone
walls. The candle burned almost perfectly still.

I snuffed it. When the light went out, the details became clearer. The
walls were not shadowed, but bright and glowing without light to get in
the way. The floor and ceiling were the same hard dark stone, carefully
mortared together. There was no door, and the stone slabs were bound
shut iron bands, cold iron that had never touched a flame. Outside that
was a million tons of mountain heart, and a tunnel long since collapsed
by its builders. I walked about the room.

There were no books. Feeling the faces on the stones, I recognized them.
They were my accusers, long since gone to final rest now. The cell was
eight steps wide, eight steps long, eight steps high, and on all sides
covered with the faces of those who had feared me. I inhaled, exhaled,
and exploded into frantic motion.

One step forward I leapt, stuck air, crouched against a wall and leapt
again, slashed, laid fingers against the ceiling, spun stabbed the
floor, and spun again. I slashed, stabbed and cut with my fingers, drove
elbows and knees into the watchers, and hung from the face of the high
judge, clinging by my fingertips to his mouth, as with aching slowness I
moved my legs through slow patterns the dark air. When I was exhausted,
and stuck in a corner, I felt around with my free hand and sought the
candle. It was unburned and unbroken, the exact way it had been when it
was left in here, ideally to light my way into the next life. I dragged
my sharpened fingertips along the metal. Sparks flew, burning me and
blotting out the natural luminance. One caught the wick and settled
there.

While it smoldered, I clawed at the binds on the walls. Every time I
touched one it shrieked, and sparks shot off like meteors. They burned
my face, and sizzled against the stone. In time the candle lit, and I
held it close to the metal. It was untouched, unmarred, and taunted me.
I could destroy the candle, but it would be whole again. I could attack
the walls, but could not scratch the workings. There was no way to judge
my movements and endurance. There was nothing here to gauge myself
against. I was still a ghost.

"Helen," I spoke her name, looking at her face carved into the ceiling.
She had lead the pack from Wilno, the only group which objected to my
sentence. She had wanted me killed, and Duncton had wanted to keep my
body on display, under watch and ready to be killed again if necessary.
My fingers traced her firm, stern features. "Helen," I called again.

"Yes, Daren?" she, at length, replied.

"Be gone from here. You have our business to be about. There is no need
for two in this place."

"Don't you want any company?"

I looked about the walls, and the carvings, and nodded. "Of course. But
there are many people to talk to. Be about our Master's business. Is
this James necessary for it?"

"He is an avenue."

"Then use him. Go."

I reached out and held my hand in the flame. My skin was reflective and
when it caught fire it flared, iridescent and bright. The candle burned
brighter, and the flame rolled up into my hands. The molten wax ceased
to run down. Beads leapt to my fingers and caught fire there. Soon the
light was bright enough to cast dark shadows. When the whole room was
brightly lit, save the small patch of darkness behind me, I turned my
head looked hard into it.

"Go, Helen."

"Then send me."

I spun and slashed, throwing the molten wax off my hand. The burning
glob splattered on her face on the wall, lighting up the outlines like a
new risen sun.

I gasped for breath, and beads of sweat pooled off my nose to drop into
the mirror on my lap. Through one small port hole, sunlight played over
me, and my face felt like it was on fire. The ship was rocking heavily.

The mirror went back into the case, which was sealed the way it had been
before. I rushed out on deck.

Coming from the south was a storm head that towered into the sky. The
winds were already rushing, building up waves before them. When I
unbound the wheel, I made sure all the sails were carefully furled. Then
I brought her around and turned the ship southwards towards the
hurricane.

"Thank you," I whispered softly.

"Be about our Master's business," the voice in my ears whispered again.

"I will." I opened the throttle and ran towards the storm.

The wind drove rain and waves against me. Every line thrummed with the
force of it, channeling the storm up through the hull into my hands.
Twice lightning struck my mast, blasting down through the same lines
into the sea, running through my fingers. The third time it struck the
bow, and the Galleon swung about. Now I was running broadside, and
tremendous force of the wind crushed the ship against the water. She
sped forward like a spat seed. The tempest was shoving against the top
mast and the booms, but nothing shifted. As she went faster and faster,
she stabilized. Soon she was cutting through the waves, waves taller
than the highest flag, and the spray shot about us.

Many of the lines were glowing. The great bronze fixtures radiated
light. I could safely ignore the wheel and did so. Crouched upon the
bow, my hands were tied in great bundles of line. I could feel the storm
in them. It was a malignance, a ball of fury, the ocean had come to
realize who and what I was, and had manifested that into one great crash
of water and wind.

"Water and Wind, fed through the Farmer, refined by the Tempest, shall
feed the Lord Emperor," I began speaking. Every one of the great words
sucked at my breaths I spoke them. "The Galleon shall be the Legion of
the Lord Emperor. The Lord Emperor is Me, and I am the Lord," and I
spoke my true name. "The Galleon shall go to the Phantasm of the Eye.
The Eye of the Lord Emperor shall hold the Phantasm. The Phantasm is
Kratos!" Clenching my eyes shut, I thought hard about the harbor of
Kratos. It had a torn sky, filled with clouds that never stilled. The
tides were erratic, rushing in and out, with waves breaking about the
rocks and great sea walls built to moderate them. By the banks, the
harbor shallowed quickly into undredged sand bars and reefs, ideal for
ruining the hulls of invading ships. Every morning, the widows and
orphans, which together meant the whole of the city, threw roses into
the water, the red reminding them of the blood of their husbands and
fathers, and the green to bring the dead the comforts of land. The whole
place groaned and muttered with the bitter ocean. "Kratos." I spoke
again, and opened myself to the burning rope and tempest. The tension
flew from me and exhaustion rushed in.

For a while, I could only peer about blearily. There was nothing to see
but water and wind, above, below, and to the sides. The Galleon rode a
torrent that skipped and lurched through empty space. It was pure storm,
freed of gravity or direction, and slashed about with personal vendetta
against me and mine. Salt burned my eyes, cut my skin, and pulled at my
clothing. We plunged through a great wall of water and submerged
completely. Currents dragged at me while I had not the strength to
resist. My knots held, and though the lines shredded my wrists, they
kept me bound to the deck.

Soon, most of the power of the storm was spent. I flew through a long,
dark space filled with meteors. Burning sparkles of light, everywhere,
leapt about in peaceful order, risen from the expired chaos. My fatigue
grew.

Before, the storm had kept me awake. Now, in the peace, gentle motion
lulled me. It was the most dangerous part.

I focused on the sting on my wrists. The chaffed skin was laced with
salt, and had I the energy it would burn in pain. I was in a daze, but
that was something to hold on to. I closed my eyes and played with the
dim, fake hurt. The more I thought about it the worse it became. To my
mind's eye it took on the facsimile of real pain, and in my toleration,
it intensified until I had to open my eyes to let the tears out.

The high, rocky cliffs were just as I remembered. The roses of Kratos
were an unusually hardy breed, and they covered the soaring expanse of
the harbor shell, below the city proper, and everywhere around me waves
crashed into flowers.

It took me almost a minute to free myself. I ran back to the wheel,
loosed it, and lowered the small guide sail. The wind caught it and
pulled the Galleon along. She picked her way carefully around the shoals
and rocks, and came through an eddy to a low pier. I tossed up lines,
which someone made fast.

I had long gloves and a long sweater in the cabin, and when I threw them
on, no trace of skin showed on either arm. They were soon soaking like
the rest of me, but that would raise no questions. I climbed up to the
pier and looked about.

  Kratos the city was covered in the smell, the sight, and the texture
of roses. Every wall was a painting in green and red, and every breath
was filled with their sweet smell. I went from the dock to a steep road
that meandered up the wall of the bluff. Houses and shops were buried
into and carven of the stone hills, poking out here and there to
overlook the sea. The winding road staggered up by a ridge line, where
block and tackle from high above allowed goods and cargo to be
transported up from the harbor basin. Everywhere were roses, red for the
living, white for the dead.

  After an hour of hard climbing the road topped out on the high plateau
of Kratos proper, letting me see the further peaks, the Mons Kratai,
that staggered around the city, looming in on it and yet pouring down
the two great rivers that made such a city grow. Beyond the mountains
was the highland desert, dry, bare, and frigid cold. The coastline ran
out of sight in both directions, comprised entirely of high cliffs and
murderous ravines. I paused, regaining my breath, and stared at the sea.
The water was deep and dark blue, with little of the shadows of green
that surround most ports. Biting tides rolled about the rocks, pounding
and rasping, and steadily wearing at the mountains. There was no shore,
merely cliffs and the deeps, the power of the high places come to meet
the power of the low. I felt oddly comfortable, regardless of what
forces would mean to work me harm.

  Here, on the plateau, the rich and powerful lived and worked. The
great bizarres pumped people through and siphoned their money away. Salt
vendors and wheat merchants stood on every corner. I wandered by,
watching people and children, the old and the evil mixing with the young
who had not yet surrendered to their baser desires. Like most cities
unspoiled by self righteous reform movements, everything was for sale
beneath the sun, nothing needed to be hid in back alleys and dark holes.
Here the scents of spices mixed with saltwater and flowers, making the
air even more beautiful to smell. At the grand fountain, a majesty of
stonework and moving water, I waited, wondering if James would arrive
today and hoping he would not. Instead, I found someone even better.

  "Seth!" I was shocked. "Doctor Seth!"

  The doctor turned and looked at me, surprised. He leaned back when he
saw me, then reached out for my hand but I ignored that and embraced
him. He knew I would not let him go till he responded, so he did so,
relaxing and putting his arms around me. When I was sure that it was him
and that he knew I was me, I let go and pulled back.

  "Hello, Seth. You look fantastic." Dr. Seth, Prince of Wilno, looked
back at me. His face was a polite smile, blank of deep significance but
I had felt the reserve in his back loosen.

  "Helen," He smiled at me. "thank you. How are you?"

  "Very well. I'm so happy to see you."

  Seth looked me oddly, then suddenly his smile turned real. "So am I.
Helen, this is my assistant, Rez." He took my arm and turned me to face
a young woman. "Rez, this is my aunt Helen, Princess of Wilno.

  I smiled at Rez, charmingly I hoped, and sized her up. She bowed, not
curtseyed, to me fluidly. A small thing, she was dressed simply. She had
also moved to stand slightly behind Seth and while facing me, kept her
eyes on everyone around us.

  "A pleasure to meet you." I kept it formal.

  Without saying anything, she bowed again, just as formally as before.
I turned back.

  "I see you've just arrived." He was holding me by the elbow, but let
his hands slip down my arms, very lightly touching the open cuts salted
and hidden by my long sleeves. It was enough to hurt, in the personal,
intentional way Seth caused pain whenever he did. "Come, join me for a
while."

  "I would love to."

  We went from the square, walking side by side. Silent Rez came behind
us. I was careful to protect my arms from bustling people. Here, no one
knew me, and were as likely to push and shove to get around me as
anyone. I disliked it.

  We walked without saying anything important, until at length Seth
asked, "Are you here publicly?"

  "No. I want to keep my presence hidden."

  "Then let us go around back." He turned from the street and took an
alley. There was a reinforced door, oak banded with iron straps, that he
opened with a trick I couldn't see. Inside was a dark foyer, unlit, and
some eight feet long. Even as Rez sealed us in, he opened the other
door, this one made of stone, that swung on well greased hinges into the
dark.

  There were no windows. I could tell the floor was stone and smooth
through my shoes, but everything else was empty. Still air surrounded
me, wide and deep on all sides. From the bright sunlight outside to this
pitch black vault was an immersion in darkness like diving into water.
Seth moved behind me, walking confidently somewhere. Rez made no sound,
her breathing was as silent as everything else she did. I had no idea
where she was or what she was doing. No one spoke.

  There was a flare and a wick caught flame, a tiny point in the
darkness. It burned down until stabilizing, the flame must have hit
liquid wax, and then split. The fire trickled out sideways, and two more
points appeared. Candles must be in a line, linked so that one spark
would ignite them all, and as each caught it started the next. But it
did not end. Wick caught wick running away from each other as the line
of light grew wider and began to curve around and came full circle. The
ring of fire cast deeper shadows but elsewhere. I cast nothing.

  Then fire was everywhere. The flames jumped up to vast sheets of oil
on glass, mirrored lamps, gold and silver As the flame rushed up and up
around the walls, leaping from lamp to candle to device I did not
recognize the light grew. The floor was polished to brilliance, the
walls were mirrored, the ceiling reflected light back and focused it all
at the center. Every bit of light came together on vast, low stone that
sat immobile at the very center of the room. It was black in the light,
polished to shine, sinister and the focus of all this.

  "Welcome to my operating room." Seth walked out from the curtain.
While I had been spellbound by the lighting of a thousand candles, he
had changed to a sleeveless jacket. I faced him, and Rez ghosted by,
carrying a tray of knives, needles, and razors. She made no noise at
all. "Please, come have a seat."

  "It's amazing." I walked forward and sat on the stone. It comfortably
warm, circular and the edge had been rounded down. Seth knelt in front
of me and rolled up one of my sleeves.

  "Obsidian. It can't be cut, so it was polished to that shape. Even
that I thought impossible, but I managed to persuade Duncton into making
it for me." He lifted my arm and examined it in the intense brightness.
Rez had again disappeared. "Not too interesting a story, really. There
was a girl that he was interested in, and someone decided to stab her
several times. Two deep punctures to her lungs, one long laceration of
the right arm. Similar in length to this abrasion," without touching he
indicated one of my welts, "but much deeper. It's a miracle I was
nearby. Duncton asked me to do anything I could, and I asked for this."
He indicated the table with his head, busy examining my other arm now.
"Everything worked out in the end."

  Rez reappeared. She had another tray, full of glass beakers. The fluid
they held was clear and still. I stopped listening to Seth and
concentrated on the glasses for a moment. The water inside was perfectly
still, no residual ripples or waves. I looked up at Rez, standing still,
watching, and silent. Suspicions entered my head of their own free will.

  "You took the hard, fast way here," Seth said. He reached out and Rez
handed him a cloth and a water jar. "I'm starting. Now why would you
take the hard, fast way all the way out to Kratos?" He began cleaning
out salt and rope splinters. It hurt, badly, but not as bad as the ride
here. I lapsed into a passive state, listening and feeling the good
doctor work. With my eyes closed, every bit of pain was a surprise. I
could not see anything coming, so it hit with unanticipated purity.
There was no expectation to cloud my mind nor any ability to prepare
myself. Seth was mechanically perfect, moving thoroughly and
proficiently down my arms, talking softly and occasionally describing
what he was doing. In my weakened state, I allowed myself into a rare
moment of vulnerability. I was sad when he finished.

  "The bandages look like long gloves. If you keep your sleeves down, no
one should know until much later."

  "Any scarring?"

  "Probably not. Where are you staying?"

  "No place, yet."

  "Then stay with me. I have a set of rooms vacant right now."

  "I would be happy too."

  "Come then. I'll show you to them."

  "Someone will need to get my possessions from my ship."

  Seth frowned in thought. "Someone will. Try to get some sleep, and
we'll talk over dinner." We rose, and he led the way out. Rez remained
behind, already cleaning and extinguishing the lights.

  My possessions, a few clothes and my sealed trunk, had been brought by
Seth's command to my rooms. Reassured that nothing would be disturbed, I
amused myself by meandering about the estate. I was unready to sleep,
and was curious about how my nephew was faring in this grim port city.

  Seth had clearly done well for himself. The floors, walls, and
ceilings were basalt. The ceilings were vaulted arched. Occasional
torches shed some light, but the shadows disappeared against the walls.
Each walking step seemed as if I moved through a void, I was alone in
deep space, there was nothing below or above.

  Had Seth been raised in the sun with me? He called me his aunt. That
implied I was much older than he. If that was just misdirection, he
might very well be one of my family. This place had the style of someone
who hated shadows, and by immersing themselves in them stole all of the
power and fear. In the operating room there had been too much light for
shadows, and here the shadows and the stones were the same. Had Seth my
obsession? If he had gained it the same way, he might very well be one
of the children of the sun, and then his power was much greater than
anyone had given him credit for.

  I stopped, facing a candle, and held a mirror to it. Within was the
dark thin face of Daren.

  "Is Seth my brother?"

  "Don't you know?"

  "I can't remember. It's impossible to go back that far in my mind in
the dark."

  "Who is Seth?"

  "The good doctor. Sometimes called the mad prince. Seth the wise; Seth
the wicked, Seth the damned."

  "I never met him. I don't remember if he was alive while I was free."

  Frustrated, I checked around me quickly. We were still alone. "I'm at
Kratos. The trip was unpleasant."

  "Why did you take the fast way?"

  "I wanted to be sure I arrived before James. James moves quickly, so
when he does arrive and finds me here before him and waiting he might
assume I've been here or nearby all the while. Anyone looking for me
might then waste a lot of time here, giving me warning so I know who's
after me."

  "What if they ask this Seth?"

  "Doctor, patient confidentiality." I smirked. "Besides, I don't think
anyone would trust Seth. He's almost as popular as I am."

  "You should kill him."

  "He's useful alive. Seth likes me."

  "Someone's coming."

  I looked up from the mirror and around. No one was visible. Still, I
rewrapped the mirror and dropped it into a pocket and resumed walking.
Around the next corner Rez stood, silently.

  "Good evening, dear." I smiled.

  "Dinner will be in a few hours. Please rest before then. I'm here to
show you to your rooms." She spoke in a soft, polite voice.

  "Thank you. Would you please lead the way?"

  She nodded, almost head bow, and turned. As I followed her I noticed I
still couldn't hear her footsteps. Her skirt was odd. It hung to the
ground, hiding her feet, but was slitted several places. I think she
wore pants beneath it. Her habit of moving silently was either
unconscious, involuntary, or a well executed trap. Just because I liked
Seth didn't mean I trusted him and especially not his silent, dangerous
minion.

My room was small, well furnished, and just large enough to provide for
all my needs. The bed was soft and comfortable. I slept like the dead.