He knew that the door would open for him, and it did. Beyond was a dark antechamber and an archway,leading into a hallway running from side to side. A gust of warm, sweet air flowed over Rallick, and he entered without pause.

Korlat, blood-kin to Serrat, slowed as she approached the strange house, The door had closed behind their quarry. She came to the edge of the clearing, then squatted on her haunches. Her fellow hunters gathered slowly around her.

Horult hissed angrily, then said. “Have you summoned our lord, Korlat?”

The woman shook her head. “I know of such creations from old,” she said. “The Deadhouse of Malaz City, the Odhanhouse of Seven Cities: Azath edieimarn, Pillars of Innocence-this door will not open to us.”

“Yet it opened to them,” Horult said.

“There is precedence. The Azath choose their own. It was so with the Deadhouse. Two men were chosen: one who would be Emperor, the other who would accompany him. Kellanved and Dancer.”

“I sense its power,” Orfantal whispered. “Our lord could destroy it, now, while it's still young.”

“Yes,” agreed Korlat. “He could.” She was silent a moment, then she rose. “I am blood-kin to the fallen,” she said.

“You are blood-kin,” the others intoned.

“The quest for vengeance is ended,” Korlat said, the lines around her almond-shaped eyes tightening. “Our lord will not be summoned. Leave him to his recovery. The Azath will not be touched, for it is new, a child.”

Her eyes, soft brown, slowly regarded those of her companions. “The Queen of Darkness spoke thus of Light when it was first born: "It is new, and what is new is innocent, and what is innocent is precious. Observe this child of wonder, and know respect."”

Orfantal scowled. “Thus did Light survive, and so was Darkness destroyed, the purity vanquished-and now you would have us flawed as our Queen was flawed. Light became corrupted and destroyed our world, Korlat, or have you forgotten?”

Korlat's smile was a sad one. “Cherish such flaws, dear sister, for our Queen's was hope, and so is mine. Now we must leave.”

Kruppe's expression was benign as he watched Crokus approach, clearly exhausted by this night of endless running. He nudged Murillio and fluttered his fingers in the young thief's direction. “The lad returns with undue haste, yet I fear such sad tidings as Kruppe must bring.”

“He's had a rough night all around,” Murillio commented. He leaned against the gate's support wall outside the Sinital Estate. The streets remained empty, the citizens shocked numb with the night's horrors.

Kruppe gestured at Moon's Spawn, now a league to the west, well beyond the city's walls. “A remarkable contraption, that. However, Kruppe is pleased that it has chosen to depart. Imagine, even the stars blotted out, leaving naught but dread in this world.”

“I need a drink,” Murillio muttered.

“Excellent idea,” Kruppe said. “Shall we await the lad, however?”

The wait was not long. Crokus recognized them and slowed his frantic run. “Apsalar's been kidnapped by the Empire!” he shouted. “I need help!” He wobbled to a halt before Murillio. “And Rallick's still in the garden-”

“Tut, tut,” Kruppe said. “Easy, lad. Apsalar's location is known to Kruppe. As for Rallick, well:” He faced the street and waved his arms expansively. “Breathe the night air, Crokus! A new year has begun! Come, let us walk, the three of us, masters of Darujhistan!” He linked arms with his comrades and pulled them forward.

Murillio sighed. “Rallick's missing,” he explained. “There's some kind of extraordinary house in Coll's garden now.”

“Ah, so much unveiled in that single statement.” Kruppe leaned against Crokus. “While, no doubt, the lad's secret, overriding concern at the moment regards the fate of a fair young maiden, whose life was saved at the last moment by a nobleson named Gorlas, of all things. Saved, Kruppe says, from a ton of masonry shrugged off a wall. “Twas heroic, indeed. The lass near-swooned with satisfaction.”

“What are you talking about?” Crokus demanded. “Who was saved?”

Murillio snorted. “I think, dear Kruppe, Master of Darujhistan, you've got the wrong fair maiden in mind.”

“She's not fair, anyway,” Crokus asserted.

Kruppe's chest swelled slightly. “You need but ask the gods, lad, and they'll tell that life itself isn't fair. Now, are you interested in how Lady Sinital's estate has just this night become Coll's estate? Or is your mind so thoroughly enamoured of this new love of yours that even the fates of your dearest friends-Kruppe included-yield such lack of interest?”