Fate's Edge

KALDAR sat in a Starbucks across from the mall's Sears entrance, sipped coffee - it was slightly burned and bitter - and contemplated his sanity. Or rather, the lack thereof.



Audrey was right. They were rushing the scheme. They needed ten days. Two weeks would have been better. But the Hand wouldn't be delayed for long. In every con, there came a time when the plan fell apart, and one had to improvise. This was no different. He was used to flying by the seat of his pants; he welcomed it most of the time. Often, when he was under pressure, things miraculously snapped into place. But he wasn't flying solo.



First, there were the kids. As much as he reassured Audrey, there was a small chance one of them would stumble. True, both of them could defend themselves, but having the potential didn't always mean guaranteed results.



Then there was Audrey herself. Beautiful, sweet Audrey. Distracting Audrey. Audrey who monopolized his brain when it should be concerned with other things, like planning and calculating. Leaving her father and brother he understood, but walking away from a talent of that caliber to chase cheating husbands and insurance frauds in the Broken? She loved what she did; back in Pena's house, she had enjoyed every moment of it. The memory of her, cool, collected, and smooth as silk, popped into his head. Mmmm.



Audrey, Audrey, Audrey . . .



Why had she stopped stealing? If there was ever a woman born to be a cat burglar, she was one. She could live like a queen in the Broken or in the Weird. But something had made her stop cold. The violent episode with the drug dealer damaged her, but it didn't break her. She'd made a conscious choice to walk away from her talent. Curiosity was once again killing him.



He'd tried to steal a kiss again before dropping her off, and she gave him a flat stare that slammed the door in his face.



In his experience, women fell into two categories: those who were too old or taken, and those who were up for some fun. With the right approach, most available women could be seduced. It had nothing to do with their character or their gender and everything to do with the basic human need for recognition and attention. He was a grifter. Seducing, whether it was to separate people from their money or to entice them into friendship or an affair, was his art. He was expert in it.



He wanted Audrey. He'd used the correct combination of flattery and playfulness. He complimented her. He said all the right things and employed all the right touches, and yet here they were in the exact same place they had been the moment they'd met. She still wouldn't give him the time of day. He won a battle here and there, but mostly he lost. He was tired of losing. He was tired of obsessing about her. It left him irritable and off-balance. And worst of all, Kaldar knew that the moment she reappeared on his horizon, his irritation would evaporate, and he'd be all wrapped up in trying to earn a smile. Like some puppy.



He was thirty-two years old. Way too old to be thinking in circles about some redhead with a plump cleavage.



His mug was empty. Kaldar looked up, considering if he should get another coffee. A brunette in oversized shades smiled at him from two tables away. Hmm. Denim shirt, baring toned arms; low-cut white pants, secured on her narrow hips by an expensive belt; Ariadna Alto shoes with a sky-high heel - he'd seen them on the cover of a tabloid when he went to a store to pick up a few things to complete his own transformation. A chunky necklace of caramel glass beads completed the look. She had money, and she was unsuccessfully trying to pretend to be carefree and casual.



He was wearing his businessman persona, the same one he wore when he'd come to trade for information with Alex Callahan. Most likely, she was just reacting to the right combination of signals his hair and clothes were sending. He smiled back at her, pleasant but not beguiling enough for an invitation.



"I leave you alone for a few hours, and you're off flirting."



Kaldar turned. His mouth fell open. A pale pink suit bordered with black embraced Audrey's perfect figure. Her hair was brushed and sprayed until it looked glossy and slightly stiff. A wide hat perched on her hair at an angle. Her makeup was heavy and flawless. Her jewelry would've made any self-respecting conman come to attention: bloated gold rings encrusted with diamonds; a tennis bracelet so iced, it was bordering on vulgar; diamond earrings; and, to top it all off, a heavy chain of gold beads studded with tiny diamond dots. She looked like a politician's trophy wife, full of money and ready to take "shop until you drop" to the next level. She was absolutely perfect, from the hat to the pointed toes of her thousand-dollar spiked heels.



Audrey cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows, pointedly looking at the chair in front of her. Kaldar got off his ass and held it out for her. She landed, one leg over the other, her French tip manicured fingers holding a tiny pink purse. He sat next to her, and the heavy scent of roses emanating from her almost made him sneeze.



"Jonathan Berman," he said, inclining his head.



"Olivia Berman." She held her hand out, and he kissed her fingers.



"Charmed."



"So do I look like I'm ready to spend some money I didn't earn?"



"You look divine," he told her, and meant every word. "Former beauty queen marries a wealthy asshole; all the means, none of the taste. Yonker will eat it up."



Audrey examined him, leaned over, and adjusted the knot on his tie. "You look pretty good yourself. The slicked-back hair is a nice touch."



"I was going for rich sleazeball."



"You got it."



They looked at each other for a long moment. She smiled, and he grinned back, unable to help himself.



"Why did you walk away from stealing?" Kaldar asked. And he just blurted it out. Brilliant move. Simply brilliant. Such finesse, such perfect timing.



"A lady never reveals all of her secrets," Audrey told him with a smug wink.



He probably could've come up with some clever retort if his mind had stopped imagining peeling off her clothes.



"Any word from the boys?" she asked.



"Nothing." Nothing was good; it meant the plan was proceeding as scheduled.



"What happens if Ed Yonker tries to check us out?"



Kaldar shrugged. "While you were getting the war paint on, I checked on a few things. Ed Yonker just put in a bid on the Graham Building. It's an old theater and a perfect location for him: its back faces an Edge bubble. I imagine he now ferries people into the Edge. If he obtains Graham's, he'll be set up just like Magdalene. He put in the highest bid - eleven million."



"And?"



"I put in one, too."



She stared at him.



"It's Friday afternoon. It will take them at least a business day to run credit checks and other things. I've spent a long time building up this identity. Jonathan Berman has rock-solid credit and owns enough fictitious real estate to buy Donald Trump. If they dig deeper, we're in trouble, but they won't until Monday, and by Monday, we need to be gone. Shall we?"



"We shall."



He tossed some bills on the table, rose, and held out his hand to help her from her chair. She put her hand in his, and he gently led her down to the parking lot.



"It must hurt to burn an identity like that," Audrey said.



"Small price to pay."



"How do you do it? How do you keep up with things in the Weird and in the Broken?"



"A gentleman never reveals all of his secrets."



She laughed, leaning her head to the side, and Kaldar wanted to kiss her neck. "Please. You're dying to boast."



"All right." He shrugged. "I've spent most of my life trading with the Broken. I know many useful people, and I make it a point to remember their names and the names of their wives or husbands. I'm pleasant and charming, and I always come bearing gifts, so they don't mind doing me small favors."



"Why do you do this, Kaldar? Is it for the thrill?"



"That's part of it."



"And the rest?"



"I want the Hand to suffer," he said. "I'd burn all my identities and start clean if I had to."



"To kill one of them?"



He knew his face had gone predatory, but he didn't bother to hide it. "Oh no. I want the whole thing."



"The entire Hand?"



"Yes. I want to end the entire organization as we know it."



Audrey blinked. "You're aiming high."



"The last feud my family endured lasted for over a century." He allowed himself a small smirk. "Mars hold grudges."



"I'll have to take care never to feud with you," she said.



"I wish you would feud with me. Then, when I won, I'd reap sweet rewards."



"Picturing me as your love slave?" Audrey laughed.



Kaldar nodded. "And you are divine."



"And what if I won?"



"Then I would be your love slave, of course."



"So you'd win in either case."



"Precisely."



Audrey searched his face for something, then bit her lip. "Did you get us new wheels?" she asked.



Kaldar gave her a flat look. "Please." He dipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out the remote, and pressed the button. A black Hummer answered with a short beep.



"A Hummer?" Her Southern accent was getting thicker by the second. "Shooog, you shouldn't have."



"Only the best for my doll."



She reached over and patted his cheek. "It's too bad this partnership will be over soon. We'd own this town."



Huh. "It doesn't have to be over soon."



"Oh no, it does. It definitely does."



JACK watched the huge, shiny car swing into the street. They had been giving out flyers for most of the day. The two of them kept to themselves, and they had gotten most of their flyers handed out and had had to go back to get a second stack. Paul, the guy with the placard, even complimented them. At lunch, George and he got a sandwich each and some bottled water. The sandwich was okay, but nothing like Rose's cooking.



He missed Rose. It stabbed at him suddenly. He missed his sister, her voice, her scent, his room, his stuff. He missed the smell of the house. He even missed Declan. It all seemed so far away somehow. Jack shook his head, trying to clear the memories. Now wasn't the time to get all sad and whiny. George had let Paul talk them into a few more hours of work with the promise of a hot dinner. Jack had made all the right "I want more food" noises, and George finally reluctantly agreed.



The large black car slowed down a few feet away in front of two kids. The window rolled down, and Audrey's voice rang through the street. "Oh my goodness! Shoog, look at the children. You boys are adorable. What are you doing?"



"We're giving out flyers," the smaller kid said.



"Is this for a school project?"



"We don't go to school," the bigger kid said.



"That's silly. How can you not go to school? What do your parents think about this?"



The bigger kid shrugged. "We don't have parents."



"You're orphans? Oh, my God! Honey, give the children some money."



Kaldar's voice said something gruff. Audrey reached through the window and handed two twenty-dollar bills to each of the boys.



The other children abandoned their customers and made a beeline for the car. George grabbed Jack by the shoulder, still acting. "She's giving out money, come on!" They ran to the vehicle.



"We have no parents." The smaller kid at the window was sniffing for emphasis. "The church makes us hand these out to earn our lunch."



"What? Who makes you do this?"



Several hands pointed at Paul, who stared at the whole scene with owl eyes. "He does!"



"Is that nasty man forcing you to work for your food?"



Heads nodded.



The car door swung open, and Audrey stepped out onto the pavement. She was wearing a ridiculous pink outfit, and her hair was shiny and hard like a helmet. She tucked her purse under her arm. "We will just see about that. Hey, you!" She pointed at Paul. "Yes, you over there! How dare you exploit these children?"



Paul raised his arms. "No, ma'am, look, that isn't what this is."



The other door opened, and Kaldar stepped out. He looked the way he looked when he'd gone to Rose Cliff, dressed in a suit, with his hair slicked back.



Audrey put her hands on her hips. "Well, is it or isn't it?"



"Is it what?"



"What this is?"



Kaldar walked over to them, looking exactly the way Rose looked when Jack forgot to wipe his feet and tracked bloody mud all over the carpets.



Paul blinked again. "Look, you got it wrong. We're trying to help the kids."



"By making them work for their food? I have news for you, Mister, slavery has been abolished in this country in eighteen ninety with the Immunization Proclamation," Audrey said.



"You mean Emancipation and 1863 . . ." Paul murmured weakly.



Behind Audrey, Kaldar shook his head at him.



"Don't try to confuse me! You're using these boys as slave labor. Maybe they should go and pick cotton for you next."



"Umm . . ."



"Well, I am telling you, these kids won't have to work tonight." Audrey looked over the kids. "Who wants McDonald's?"



Jack stuck his arm out with everyone else, and yelled, "Me, me, me!"



Audrey swung to Kaldar. "Honey?"



Kaldar sighed, opened his wallet, took out a thick wad of cash, and deposited it into Audrey's hand. Audrey waved it around. "Let's go, children! I saw a Mickey D's around the corner."



She marched down the street, everyone following her.



"Wait . . ." Paul called out. "You can't do this."



"Trust me," Kaldar told him. "It's best to just go with the flow when she's like this. Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."



KALDAR walked next to Paul through the shiny, polished hallway of the Church of the Blessed and pretended to listen to the man droning on about the camp and the runaways, while keeping an eye on Audrey and the gaggle of children ahead. They had gone to McDonald's, and, afterward, Audrey insisted on seeing where the "poor boys" were sleeping. She made it sound like she expected them to be chained to the walls in some cell somewhere, which caused their handler no end of distress. Paul was a true believer. He was honest and hardworking, and he genuinely wanted to help the children.



"You see, most of them really have no place to go. It's horrible what they're reduced to on the streets. Drugs, violence. Some of them even prostitute themselves. I had two boys just today standing there, looking as hungry as could be, and I had to promise that nobody would touch them, or they wouldn't come near me. What is the world coming to, I ask you? These children, they're suspicious of charity. I mean, wrap your mind about that one, will you? Childhood should be a happy thing. At least this way they get two decent meals a day."



Ahead, the double doors opened, and Ed Yonker entered the hallway. He looked exactly like his photograph: well-groomed, tall, with clear blue eyes and a well-oiled smile. Kaldar disliked him instantly.



"Paul, what's going on here?"



"Immunization," Audrey proudly told him, and kept walking.



"What?"



Kaldar sighed.



"She means emancipation," Paul said helpfully.



"I see. Who is being emancipated?"



Paul launched into a long explanation, complete with arm waving. Kaldar studied Ed Yonker, and Ed was clearly doing his best to study him. His gaze slid from Kaldar's shoes, to the expensive suit, to the Rolex on his wrist, to the three-hundred-dollar tie, then, finally, to his eyes.



Paul was winding down.



"You must excuse my wife," Kaldar said. "She has a soft spot for underprivileged children, and she gets carried away. We'll be on our way shortly."



"It's no trouble. No trouble at all." Ed Yonker stuck out his hand. "Edward Yonker. Everyone here just calls me Ed Junior. We're not very formal here."



Kaldar took the hand and shook it. "Jonathan Berman. As I said, Mr. Yonker, we'll be on our way soon."



"Please, just Ed will do." All three of them looked after Audrey's retreating behind, clasped in a skintight skirt. Yonker raised his eyebrows a bit, appraising Audrey like a piece of meat in the market, and Kaldar felt a powerful urge to hit him in the mouth.



"If your wife wants to make sure the boys aren't mistreated, then I say more power to her. In our day and age, it's so rare to find people who take interest in God's less-fortunate children."



"Thank you for understanding," Kaldar said.



"Come, I'll show you around." Ed strode next to him, shoulders back, firm gait. No trying to dominate, but secure in his authority all the same. They went through another set of double doors, down the hallway, and entered a small dormitory.



Ahead, Audrey called, "Y'all don't rush now, I don't want any of you falling."



"Is that a Southern accent, if you don't mind my asking?" Ed asked. "Georgia perhaps?"



"Florida," Kaldar said, just out of spite.



"Oh. What brings you to sunny San Diego?"



"Business. Real estate."



"There is plenty of that around here." Ed gave a hearty laugh.



"Indeed."



Audrey inspected the dormitory, letting the boys lead her.



"Your wife is very passionate about doing good works, I see."



"She is very generous," Kaldar nodded. "Luckily, I'm in no danger of bankruptcy."



Ed chuckled. If he had been a cartoon, his eyes would've ignited with dollar signs.



Audrey came full circle and headed back toward them. Her eyes shone, and her face was slightly flushed, just enough to put all sorts of interesting thoughts into a man's head. She held on to Jack and ruffled his hair. "Isn't he just the most adorable thing you've ever seen? I want to take him home."



"Feel better, doll?" Kaldar asked her.



Audrey let go of Jack, leaned forward, and Kaldar kissed her, carefully so as not to smudge her lipstick. Their lips barely touched, but for once he was grateful for the tailored trousers of his suit. Most men didn't go erect from a casual kiss from their wives.



"Yes, I do. Thank you, darling."



"Livie, this is Ed Yonker. He's in charge here."



"Nice to meet you, preacher."



Audrey beamed. Kaldar was prepared for the smile, but it took even him off guard. Ed Yonker blinked. Paul had to have a private moment studying the floor. Kaldar slid his arm around Audrey and cupped her butt possessively, a fact Ed Yonker noticed and obviously filed for further reference. Dear Gods, Audrey had a nice ass.



"I do miss going to church," Audrey prattled on. "Jonny has been so busy lately. One day we're in Seattle, then in Nevada, now here. We never get to worship anymore. Especially in such a lovely church. Y'all seem like such nice people, and your kids are darling."



Ed finally collected his wits. "As you can see, only a small group of our younguns stay here. Most of them stay with us at the camp."



Audrey opened her eyes wider. "What kind of camp?"



"That's where most of our services take place. The Blessed Youth Witness Camp and the Wooden Cathedral."



Audrey turned to Kaldar. "Can we see the camp, darling?"



"Not today, doll," he told her. "I have a business meeting."



"I don't mean to be rude or to upset you," Ed said. "But the Wooden Cathedral is a special place for our congregation. That's where we worship and meet in fellowship. One must aspire to be a member of our church to visit there."



They were losing Ed's attention.



Audrey pretended to pout and made a small dog noise. Nicely done, but Ed still didn't seem involved.



"No, Livie," Kaldar shook his head. "As I said, I have an auction to attend today. Ed has his congregation to look after. He can't exactly give us a grand tour. I do apologize again for the interruption."



"No problem at all." Ed nodded, amicable. The hint had flown clear over his head. Ed was swimming away and fast. "What is it you said you did?"



"Real estate," Kaldar said.



"My husband provides housing for poor people," Audrey said proudly, petting his shoulder. "He owns apartments, and when people can't pay their rent, he buys them back and turns them into stores."



Kaldar grimaced. "Livie . . ."



"It's something to be proud of," she said.



Slum lord, tons of money, beautiful wife without a brain, and loads of guilt. Come on, Ed. Come on. Take the bait.



Ed considered it. The thought flashed in his eyes for a moment and dulled. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you folks. Paul here will show you out."



Damn it.



"Later!" Kaldar raised his hand and steered Audrey to the exit.



"I really wanted to see the camp," Audrey pouted.



"Sorry, doll. Besides, tonight we have to go visit Magdalene, remember? Your brother recommended her?"



Behind them, Ed Yonker came to life like a shark sensing a drop of blood in the water.



Three.



Kaldar put a little pressure on the small of Audrey's back. And we're walking away. Walking away . . .



Audrey let out a cute sigh. "I suppose. It will be boring. Those people are always boring."



"It's supposed to be inspiring," Kaldar said. "I'm sure you'll like it. Supposedly, she gets great results. One session, and your mind is sharper. Your brother swears by her."



Two.



"You're already the sharpest man I know." Audrey leaned into him, slipping her arm around his waist. It felt like heaven.



"Thank you, doll."



One.



"Mr. Berman!" Yonker called.



Audrey squeezed his side a little. Kaldar turned. "Yes?"



Yonker came toward them. "If you folks attend tonight's service, I can see to it that you can come and worship with us tomorrow at the Wooden Cathedral."



Got you, you greedy sonovabitch.



"We don't want to be a bother," Kaldar said.



"Please!" Ed raised his hand, as if blessing them. "As a fellow Christian, I'd hate for you to miss out on the opportunity to witness God's glory. I won't take no for an answer. Tonight at seven. I'll be looking for you."



Fifteen minutes later they were out in fresh air. They stayed in part, strolling leisurely to their Hummer. Kaldar opened the door and helped Audrey into her seat, then unhurriedly got in, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb.



The church disappeared behind the buildings.



"The kids did great," Audrey said.



"The kids did fantastic," he agreed.



"Risky mentioning Magdalene," Audrey said.



"We were losing him."



"Still risky. You take chances, Kaldar."



"Fortune favors the brave."



"Or the prepared." Audrey pulled a prepaid cell from her purse and punched in a number.



"What are you doing?" he asked.



"Calling Magdalene to let her know we're canceling our evening appointment. Who knows how long Ed's reach is? He might have someone in her office."



JACK watched Kaldar and Audrey exit the building.



"The Witness work is over for the day," Paul called out. "Go on."



The kids around them scattered. Some went back to the dormitory, others headed for the exit. In a moment, only Jack and George were left standing. Farther down the hall, Ed Yonker stuck one finger into his ear and raised his cell phone to the other.



"No dinner today. Sorry, boys." Paul spread his arms. "That rich woman messed up all of our plans. But you had McDonald's anyway."



"It's fine," George said.



Jack grimaced. "Thanks for nothing. We'll be going now."



Paul reached into his pocket and peeled off a small rectangle of paper. "This is the address of the Children Services Center. If you go there and register, you can come here and hand out more flyers. If you do really well, you can sleep in the dormitory here, too."



"Dude!" George leveled a look of pure scorn at him. "We'll find our own place to sleep."



Ed Yonker snapped the cell phone closed and stomped down the hall toward them. A heavy stink of cloves clung to his clothes and hair. Jack moved out of Yonker's way. George occasionally smelled like that after a session in the estate laboratory. Ed was playing with heavy-duty magic.



Ed's gaze snagged on Jack. "You!"



Jack cringed. "I didn't do nothing."



"Leave my brother alone!" George moved forward.



Ed pointed at Jack. "The Berman woman likes you." He turned to Paul. "Clean them up. I need them on their best behavior tonight and tomorrow."



"What? But they aren't registered with the Center . . ."



"I don't give a goddamn if they're registered or not. That bastard Berman is trying to buy the Graham Building from under me. No wonder that slick sonovabitch was trying so hard to slip away. That's fine. He might have fifteen million, but I've got my hooks into his wife. Before long, he'll be signing Graham over to me. Mark my words." Ed stabbed his finger in Jack's direction. "Get them cleaned up, Paul. I want them at tonight's service and tomorrow at the camp front and center." He turned and stomped down the hall.



Paul stared at them helplessly.



"A hundred bucks," George said. "Fifty for my brother, fifty for me."



Haeh-heh. "For fifty bucks we'll be nice to the rich lady." Jack nodded. "She likes my hair."



"And if we stay overnight, we get our own room. With a lock," George said. "And we sleep light."



Paul shook his head. "Fine. A hundred bucks and a separate room it is."



"Deal!" George stuck his hand out, and Paul shook it.



006



THE church service was boring and tedious, Jack decided. George had once dragged him to a lecture Declan's granduncle Tserebus was giving on the practical applications of flash. This was only slightly less dull.



It started exciting enough. Paul herded them into a huge room and made them sit next to Audrey and Kaldar. Jack sat on Audrey's side and George on Kaldar's side. Then a big choir came out and sang "hallelujah," at first quiet, then louder and louder, until Ed Yonker appeared from the back and walked through the aisle, shaking hands and hugging people.



"He thinks he's a rock star," Audrey murmured under her breath. Her mouth was still smiling. Jack couldn't figure out how she could talk like that, with her mouth stretched out.



Yonker kept hugging people until he got all the way to the stage. Then he picked up a microphone and started talking. And talking. And talking . . .



". . . God wants us to live a full life. Let's think about it for a moment. What does living a full life really mean? It means being healthy, in spirit, in body, and in your work. God loves us. And that love, oh that love is all-encompassing. We are His special children. We are the chosen ones." Yonker waved his arm. "God has chosen us above aaaall of his creations. Above the beasts of the forest, above the fish of the sea, above the birds in the air, above the angels in Heaven! God wants us to succeed! Are we a success if we're not healthy?"



Yonker held the microphone out to the audience.



The crowd answered, "NO."



"No." Yonker got terribly serious. "Are we a success if we're not happy?"



"NO."



"If we are God's chosen, than how can we glorify His Name if we're sad and wretched? How can we be a witness to His Power if we are weak and lacking? We can't. We must stand strong. We must stand united. We are the Blessed. We must provide an example of His Love for us, for we are His Will upon this Earth. We must spread His Glory to the farthest corners, so those who don't know Him look at us and seek Him out."



Jack pondered if he could get away with sneaking out to "use the washroom" and decided he couldn't.



"People come to me, and they say, 'Ed, how can we help bring God's will to those less fortunate?' And I say, 'Share. Share the blessings that God bestowed on you. Give of yourself to the Church, and the Church will glorify God in your name.' I will tell you now, those who sit on their checkbooks and hoard their money in their bank accounts, those people do not witness for our God. You must give! Write that check today. Fill out that direct transfer form the children handed you at the entrance. Fill it out and sign your name if you want to go to Heaven, and send it to the business office."



Yonker kept talking. Jack yawned and closed his eyes. If only he could curl up in his chair . . .



A finger jabbed him in the ribs. His eyes snapped open. Next to him, Audrey was listening to Ed. Her lips barely moved. "Stay awake."



Jack sighed and stared at Yonker walking around onstage. For a while, he imagined what would happen if he turned into a lynx. People would run around, and he would growl and scare them. Then he wondered what Yonker would look like with a mustache.



Finally, people came through the aisles, passing some sort of platter around. Kaldar dropped a folded stack of bills held together with a small clip on it, and Jack gave it to some older lady standing in the aisle. The old lady made big eyes at the clip and took the platter away.



Then there was more annoying preaching: blah-blah-blah, we are so good, blah-blah-blah, God wants us to have money, then Yonker went offstage to the back while the choir sang some more, and Paul came to get them. Audrey hugged Jack and told him to be a really good boy and that she would see him soon.



Paul took them to the back of the church, all the way to the service entrance. A van waited for them. Paul opened the van door. Two other kids sat in the backseat, a dark-headed girl and a tall, lanky-looking kid with freckles and red hair.



"Get in," Paul said.



George pondered the van.



"We're going to camp," Paul said patiently. "That's all we're doing."



"Climb in already." Jack pushed George a little.



"Don't shove me."



"Move so I don't have to."



They climbed into the van and bickered for the next fifteen minutes, until Paul told them that he would turn the van around and that, so help him God, making Ed happy wasn't worth this. They both decided that would be a good time to shut up and rode the rest of the way in silence. The van crept up a narrow road, angling away from the main streets.



"Now this is going to feel a little weird," Paul said. "There is nothing to be scared of. Just the pressure in the air here is different."



"Why?" George asked.



"Subterranean gas," Paul said. "It comes out through the cracks in the road. Take a deep breath and try to relax, okay?"



The van came to a stop. Paul stepped out and opened the side door. "Melanie and Robert, out. And you, too."



Jack climbed out of the van. Melanie took his hand. "Don't worry; it feels funny the first time."



Jack rolled his eyes. George and the red-haired kid were trying to come up with some sort of arrangement that didn't involve their holding hands. Finally, the tall kid put his hand on George's forearm.



"Let's go." Melanie stepped into the boundary. "If you feel bad, you tell me, and we'll go slowly."



Jack took a step.



The pressure of the boundary ground on him. Magic ripped through Jack, thudding in his blood, saturating his muscles. Scents flooded his nose. He felt strong again.



Slowly, step by step, Melanie led him through the boundary to the Edge on the other side. Behind them, the city still teemed with life and the noise of cars, but before them wilderness stretched. Scraggly woods sheathed hills, growing denser in the distance. A lonely road led over them into the distance, where a mountain range jutted out of the hills. He hadn't seen those kinds of mountains when Kaldar drove them around the city. Hills, sure. Mountains, no.



Melanie smiled at him. "You made it."



George yanked his arm out of the red-haired kid's grip.



"You okay?" Paul asked.



That's right, I'm not supposed to know what just happened, Jack recalled. "Yeah," he said. "Where is the city?"



"It's complicated. Come on, boys, get into the van. The camp's straight ahead up that mountain. That's where you'll be staying tonight."



The road took them over the hills, all the way up the spine of a mountain bristling with pines. They climbed and climbed, the van creaking, until finally they conquered the apex and rolled to a wooden arch marking the entrance. Beyond the arch, wooden buildings waited, all simple rectangles sitting side by side in two rows, and at the end of the row a large structure rose. Jack had expected a church, like an old Edge church they had seen a thousand times in their small Edge town of East Laporte. This church looked more like a barn, complete with heavy double doors. A man with a rifle stood at the entrance.



Paul steered the van to the arch, stopped to talk to some girl sitting on the side, and drove on, to one of the smaller buildings.



"This is your place for the night," Paul said. "Lillian will make sure that you guys get sheets and toothbrushes and all that issued to you. Okay? It's just you two in the room, since you guys are all jumpy, so you can lock the door at night."



"Why do they get a separate room?" the tall kid from the back asked.



"Because I said so," Paul said. "Anyway, go on, you two."



Paul wasn't a bad guy, Jack decided, once the van pulled away. He just had a lousy boss. The way Jack looked at it, you should know who you were working for. They worked for Kaldar, who was a cheat, a thief, and a gambler, but he was honest with them about it. George swung the door open, and they went inside. The room was small, barely any room between two beds. About fifteen minutes later, a young girl with freckles on her nose brought their sheets, toothbrushes, some towels, and two paper bags. She told them that food was served in the cafeteria, but they'd missed dinner, so they'd have to get dry rations. She smiled at George a lot.



Jack's paper bag contained another turkey sandwich, some bars made out of grain and seeds, and an apple. Jack ate the sandwich and left the bar alone. He wasn't a bird, and he wouldn't be eating any seeds.



They locked the door and settled in their beds to wait for sunset.



Two hours later, the sun finally rolled past the horizon. George sat up in his bunk and pulled a plastic bag out of the pocket of his hoodie. Inside, a small furry body lay still.



"Should've gone with the squirrel," Jack said quietly.



"Rat is better. They can get into tighter spaces."



"Yeah, but people see a rat, they try to kill it. They see a squirrel and go, 'Oh, how cute, look at its fluffy tail!'"



"It's dark. Nobody will see it." George closed his eyes.



"George?"



"Mmm?"



"What's the point of this church?"



"That's how Yonker makes money." George shrugged.



"Yes, I get that part. But what do people who go to his church get out of it?"



George furrowed his eyebrows. "People are scared to die. Most religions say that there is life after death, that only your body dies, but your essence, your soul, keeps living. Yonker tells them that if they give him money, their soul will go to a good place."



"Is Yonker a god?"



"Of course not."



"So how can he control where the soul goes?"



"He doesn't," George answered.



"So he lies."



"Yes."



"Why do people believe him?"



"Because most people are decent, Jack. They don't want to think that someone would stand up like that in front of a crowd and lie just to get their money. They want to believe that they're doing something good when they go to church."



"Do you believe in gods?"



George sighed. "I believe you have to be a good person. Whatever you do, good or bad, it will come back to you."



It made sense, Jack decided.



"Look, not all churches are like Yonker's church," George said. "Some of them are good; some of them are bad. You have to decide for yourself if you want to go and which god you want to worship or not. It's up to you not to be a sucker. Life gets really hard sometimes. You don't remember when mom died, but I do. I cried, and Grandmere told me that Mom was in heaven, in a beautiful garden, where she was happy and safe. It helped. Anyway, we'll talk about this later."



George touched the rat. A faint pulse of magic sparked from his finger to the dark fur. The little rodent rolled to its feet and sat unnaturally still.



"Ready?" George glanced at him.



Jack took a deep breath, clearing his mind. He had to commit every word George said to memory. Kaldar had a recorder, but both he and Audrey worried that the boys would be searched, so in the end they decided not to risk bringing it. Now he was the recorder. All those memorization drills William made him do would finally pay off. "Ready."



George stared into space. The rat scurried to the door, squeezed out through the narrow gap between the lower edge and the floor, and vanished from view.



"Log houses on the right, one, two, three, four, five," George said, his voice a low monotone. Jack focused, committing each word to memory. "Identical houses on the left. Six, seven. The houses end in a wide space. Cafeteria on the left. Guardhouse on the right. Three people are playing cards. The one on the left is upset because he can't remember the poker combinations. He's accusing the others of cheating him. Two more people are in their bunks. Five guards total. There is a gun rack with rifles. Pathway from the wide space leading northwest. Trees. More trees. The path is maybe two hundred elbows in length. Large building."



George fell silent. Jack waited.



"I'm at the ward. The Night plan won't work. These wards are really old, at least as rooted in as ours were on the house in the Edge. You probably can get through in the lynx form, but none of us in human form can penetrate this. Going back into the camp now."



So much for stealing the gadget.



"I'm at the church. The inside is large, one, two, three . . . twenty-five rows, in two sections in the middle of the floor. A lot of open space on the sides and before the stage. Another guard in the front row, carrying a rifle. He's reading a book. The pulpit is empty. There is magical residue. Hallway to the right." George's face jerked.



"A cat. Damn it."



"Did you get eaten?" Jack murmured, and cursed inwardly. George was so deep in trance he wouldn't hear.



"I'm hiding under a mop bucket. He broke my neck. Hurt like hell."



For the next ten minutes, they sat quietly.



"Okay, he went away." George winced. "Two rooms. One on the right has another guard. He's drinking coffee. The door on the left is fitted tight. I'll have to backtrack and chew through the wall."



Jack growled to himself. The longer George stayed in the trance, the harder it was to bring him back.



"This is a really thick wall," George said. "It will be a while."



Curse it.



Footsteps. Jack tensed. Closer, closer. Someone knocked on the door.



Go away.



The knocking persisted.



Jack padded to the door, dropped down, and sampled the draft floating under. The freckled girl from before.



He got up and opened the door half an inch. "Hey. How's it hanging?"



She blinked. "Umm, is your brother here?"



Jack braced the door with his foot. If George started mumbling, their lives would get complicated fast. "He's sleeping."



The girl licked her lower lip nervously. "Maybe you could wake him up."



"He's tired. I'm tired, too."



"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you woke him up for me."



The way she stood, determined, one foot forward, meant she wouldn't go away on her own. He had to say something mean now, or they'd be stuck here with the door half-opened, and George could start talking any moment. Jack rummaged in his brain.



"He has a girlfriend. And she's prettier than you."



The freckled girl took a step back. "You know what? Fuck you."



"Fuck you back. Bye now." Jack shut the door and latched it. Phew.



An hour passed. Another. This was taking too long.



Finally, George announced, "Okay, I'm through. The room is empty except for the table. On the table there is a square glass case. I see it now. It's a low-grade Karuman emotional amplifier, level three, standard cloak-chain model, known as the Eyes of Karuman. There is a book in my luggage on automatics; it should have a picture. This item was used by a cult, and it's been banned in the realms for at least a hundred years. It doesn't just influence emotions; it cooks your brain until you become a fanatic. Judging by the mineral crust on the lower edges of the disks, this thing has been used a lot. You need to tell Kaldar and Audrey that when the device is active, the people likely think Yonker is a prophet and will defend him with their lives. But the effect is short-lived, so he has to continuously use it to keep the congregation together. The use of the device induces euphoria, and some research suggests that the congregation will exhibit dependent tendencies."



"English, George," Jack muttered.



". . . meaning they are addicted to the way the Eyes of Karuman makes them feel."



Great. Crazy addicted religious people.



"The device consists of two golden disks two inches in diameter. Each disk has a dark blue stone, probably sapphire, pillow cut, an inch and a half in diameter. There are five glyphs on each disk, radiating from the stone out. From the top going clockwise, glyph for air, glyph for mind . . ." George launched into a detailed description of the parts.



Jack memorized it all. Finally, George took a deep breath. "Okay. Bring me back now."



Jack grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Wake up."



Nothing. Fear shot through Jack. It was all right. He still had a backup. He had water.



"Wake up!"



No response. Crap.



Jack grabbed the bottle of water, pulled the lid off, and dumped it on George's head.



"Anytime," George said.



Curse it.



Jack slapped him. Nothing. Another slap. Nothing. Panic swelled in him.



"It's not working," George said.



"No shit." Jack paced back and forth, like a caged tiger.



"Don't panic."



"I'm not panicking." He didn't know why he kept talking. It was not like George could see him or hear him.



"Try burning me."



"With what, George? We have no matches." With each second, the gulf between his brother's mind and his body grew wider. They should've thought about this. They should've brought something, a lighter, matches, something.



"No wait. We don't have any matches. I forgot. Jack, you have to hurt me."



"You're crazy."



"I know it sounds nuts, but it works. You have to do it, because if you don't, I'll be stuck in this rat. Pain, Jack. Severe pain. My body needs to send me a signal that it's fighting for its life, or it will just go to sleep. You could try breaking my fingers. That works sometimes - "



Screw it. Jack grasped George's neck into an armlock and squeezed, hurting but avoiding the jugular. If he put pressure on it, George would pass out. Three seconds, and George gasped for breath. Jack kept squeezing. George's face turned purple. Jack hauled him up. George made no effort to resist. He just hung there like a cloth doll. Jack kept squeezing. He couldn't remember how long it took to choke a man to death. Of all the things, how could he, with his perfect memory, forget that one? Was it three minutes? Two? He tightened his hold.



Please, George. Please.



George's hands clawed his arm. Jack let go, and his brother crashed to the floor and sucked in a long, hoarse breath.



"Are you back?"



George curled on the floor, gasping, trying to breathe.



Jack yanked him up. "Are you back?!"



"Yes," George croaked. "Let go."



Jack dropped him, and George fell, smashing his head on the bed frame. "Ow."



Jack crouched on the bed. He had almost squeezed the life out of his brother. A little longer, and, one way or another, George would have been dead. Jack realized he was cold. His face was drenched in sweat. In his head, he was holding George's dead body.



It was over. It was done and over, and everything was well. Everything was fine.



George grinned at him from the floor. His face was red, and a dark swollen line marked his neck. Jack held out his hand, his brother grasped it, and Jack pulled him to his feet.



George rubbed his neck. "Shit, this hurts. Your turn."



Jack rolled back off his bed and pulled off his clothes. "The freckled girl came to see you."



"Oh, what did she want?"



"She wanted to talk to you."



George grinned and winced. "Ow. My whole face hurts now. What the hell did you do?"



"Just a standard choke hold." Jack took a deep breath and let the Wild off its chain. The world crashed down around him. Pain tore through his muscles, grasped his bones, and twisted them in their sockets. His body whipped the floor, thrashing and kicking, lost in a confusion of agony and magic. He felt himself stretch into the distance, impossibly far, then he was back. Jack rolled to his feet. George was looking down on him from the bed.



"You have four hours. At five, the sun begins to rise, and there is light."



Jack bared his fangs, panting. Four hours would be plenty.



George opened the door, peered outside, and shut it. "The freckled girl," he breathed. "She's outside."



It had been like two hours. She couldn't have waited there for two hours, could she? Everyone in this place was crazy.



"I'll go first," George said.



Jack crawled under the bed to hide and squinted so his eyes wouldn't give him away. George swung the door open and stepped out. "Greetings."



Greetings? George, you dumb-ass.



"Hey there," the girl said. "Your bother said you were sleeping."



"I was." George's voice slipped into his Cursed Prince tone, calm, measured, with a touch of a blueblood accent. "He said you came by a long time ago. Did you wait here this whole time?"



"I took a walk."



Bullshit.



"I don't blame you. The moon is so beautiful tonight." George looked up. The moonlight spilled from the sky, bathing him, and George's yellow hair seemed to shimmer, almost white. The freckled girl stared at him, googly-eyed. Jack rolled his eyes.



"You must be tired," George said. "Why don't we sit down? I think I saw a bench somewhere."



"There are a whole bunch of benches in front of that building."



"That's wonderful!" George's voice pulsed with joy, as if she'd given him a present. Jack would have grimaced if he could. "You know this camp so well."



"My mom works in the cafeteria. I'm stuck here for the whole summer. There is nobody to talk to except the Bible-heads and the runaway kids, and all of them are assholes. It's so boring."



"Not anymore, I hope." George smiled.



"No, I guess not."



They turned right and walked away.



"So tell me about yourself," George's voice floated on the draft. "What's your name?"



"Lisa."



"That's a lovely name. What do you like to do?"



"I like to read. I read about vampires a lot . . ."



Jack sprang from under the bed and dashed into the woods. The tree trunks and branches blurred. He ran and ran, as if he had wings. In that moment, with the moon rising over the treetops, the forest was his for the taking. He was the king of everything he saw.



Three hours later, when he crawled back into the room, having recited everything George had told him into Kaldar's recorder, George was already in his bed. George waited until he shifted back into his human body.



"How did it go?"



"It's done." He had met Kaldar and Audrey near the Edge boundary and recited everything George told him into a recorder.



"Good."



"How did it go with the freckled girl?"



"She thinks I'm a vampire."



Jack snickered and fell asleep.



"WHAT do you think?" Gaston held up two disks made of pale brown plaster.



Audrey examined the disks. The three of them had worked on the fake disks for the last two hours. Jack's recount only confirmed what they already suspected - stealing the Eyes of Karuman out of the camp was too risky. The wards guarding it had been rooted too deeply into the soil, and even assuming they did somehow break through the magic defenses, the camp was filled with children and armed guards. If anything went wrong during the heist, the chances of a child's being hurt in the confusion were too great. Even Kaldar wouldn't risk it. They had to go with the Day plan - replacing the real Eyes of Karuman with a fake copy - and hope they got out of the camp alive.



Forging the stones for the Eyes had been easy; George had recognized them as the Weird's pillow cut, which was just another name for the antique cushion cut, halfway between an oval and a square with sixty-four facets. Both she and Kaldar had handled enough gems in their lifetimes to reproduce the stones of the correct cut and size. Two thousand dollars at a specialized glass shop got them two chunks of glass that looked close enough to pass a cursory inspection. The disks were harder. For one, they had glyphs, and while Gaston was a wizard with clay and brush, the glyphs proved tricky.



The disks resembled what Jack described; he was very thorough, but that didn't change the fact that all they had to go on was a description and a picture in a book. In the picture, the disks were squares and the stones were green.



"So?" Gaston asked.



"They have to look like gold," Audrey told him. Next to her, Ling watched them with her small black eyes. She and Jack's cat had made friends finally. The cat was off hunting in the woods, but instead of going with him, Ling stuck to Audrey like glue, almost as if the little beast sensed her anxiety.



"They will, once I magic them up."



The bushes parted, and Kaldar made his way into the clearing. "Got it." He handed her a thick gold chain. Audrey held it up to the picture.



"Close enough," Gaston said. "Once I put this together, it will look like the real thing."



"I've been breaking my head about how we'll make this switch." Audrey pointed to the diagram on the piece of paper, which she'd drawn after listening to Jack's recording. "I'm guessing he goes into the room, puts the device on, does the service, goes back, and takes the device off. The guards likely watch him the whole time."



"So we hit him before or after the service," Kaldar said.



"After won't work," Audrey said. "You saw him, he goes off to the back. It has to be before, when he is doing his hug and handshake bit."



Kaldar nodded. "Not only that, but if we let him mind-rape the congregation, and he realizes we're up to something, they will tear us to pieces. Also, I don't know about you, but I'm not eager to sit there and let him magic me into thinking he's the new messiah."



Hitting Ed before the service was risky, they both knew it. The device was his most prized possession. He knew its weight and feel like the back of his hand. If he realized that something had gone wrong, there would be hell to pay.



But they were in too deep to back out now. They needed Ed Yonker's gadget to get the invitation from Magdalene, and they needed the invitation to get into de Braose's impregnable castle and steal back the bracelet diffusers. It felt like tumbling down the stairs - once started, they couldn't stop, and each step sent them deeper and deeper into danger.



"I can distract Yonker," Audrey said. "But stealing the device isn't my thing."



"I've got it covered," Kaldar said.



Really. "So what, you're a pickpocket, too?"



Kaldar paused, as if considering something. "Check your left pocket."



Oh no. No, he didn't. She thrust her fingers into the pocket of her jeans. They found empty space and fabric. Her grandmother's cross was gone. The cross was everything. It was a reminder of the only stable time in her life; it was a symbol of her finally saying, "Enough." She could lose everything, but as long as she kept that cross, she would be okay.



Audrey held out her hand. "Give it back."



"Don't be mad."



"Give it back right now, Kaldar."



Ling let out an angry raccoon noise, halfway between hiss and growl.



Kaldar swiped his fingers over her palm. The cross lay on her hand.



"When did you steal it?"



"This time?"



That bastard. "Did you take it more than once?"



"He steals it about twice a day," Gaston said. "Then he puts it back. It's not personal. He does the same to everybody in the family - " He saw her face and clamped his mouth shut.



She faced Kaldar. "Never take it again, or we're through."



Kaldar raised his hands. "I promise."



"I'm dead serious. You take it again, and I walk."



"I understand."



She turned away and went around the wyvern, away from the two of them.



"Audrey . . ." Kaldar called.



She kept walking, away, into the woods, until she was far enough not to see the blue bulk of the dragon. A tree stub jutted out of the soil. She sat on it. She felt so angry, she couldn't even put it into words.



Ling ran out of the bushes, sat before her on hind paws, and dropped a dead cicada on her lap.



"Thank you," Audrey told her, brushing the insect off her jeans. "But you better eat it."



Ling scratched at her knee. Audrey opened her arms, and the raccoon jumped into her lap. She petted Ling's soft fur.



The light sound of a twig snapping underfoot came from behind her. Ling hissed and jumped down. Kaldar circled the stump and knelt in front of her. "I'm sorry."



"Why did you take it?" she asked.



"I don't know. I wanted something of yours."



"There must be trust between partners. You broke it. When I worked with my brother and my father, I always had to guard my things. Any slip-up, and they would take what was mine and laugh in my face when called on it because I wasn't good enough to catch them in the act."



"That's not why I did it." Kaldar took her hand. "I'm sorry, Audrey. Please smile at me."



She shook her head. "No. Let me alone."



"Audrey, seriously, what do you want me to do? You ran away like a child."



She squeezed the words out through clenched teeth. "I walked away so I wouldn't have to deal with you."



Kaldar stood up, his hands held out. "Well, I'm here anyway. Why don't you just be a big girl and deal with me. What are you afraid of - "



She punched him. She did it right, turning with the punch, hitting him in the precise corner of his jaw. Kaldar's eyes rolled back in his head, and he went down like a log.



Audrey studied his prone body for a long moment. Her hand hurt. She should just leave him here in the woods. But she wasn't mad anymore - all her ire had gone out with that punch. She nudged him with the tip of her shoe.



"Get up."



Slowly, Kaldar's eyes opened. He sat up and rubbed his jaw. "Good hit."



"You deserved it."



A gray ball of fur dashed from the undergrowth, all but flying. Ling charged Kaldar. Her sharp teeth closed on his arm. Kaldar cursed in surprise, and the raccoon darted into the safety of the bushes. Ling the Raccoon Vigilante.



"What the hell?" Kaldar stared at the bite marks on his forearm.



"Don't expect mercy from Ling the Merciless." Audrey reached for him. He grasped her hand, and she pulled him up. "We better disinfect this."



He shook his head. "How did you manage to train her like that?"



"Little bit of food and petting." Audrey stepped over a fallen branch. "She is like a cat: she only does what she already wants to do. Something really bad happened to Ling when she was very young. When I found her, she was covered in blood. The vet said something bit her. I wasn't even sure she would survive. She did, but she is a terrible coward. She's scared of dogs, so she coughs when she smells them. She is scared of strangers, so when she smells or sees one coming, she will run and hide somewhere close to me. I'm surprised she'd gathered enough courage to bite you."



"She must've thought you were in danger," Kaldar said.



She wasn't wrong. The theft of the cross hurt, but it hurt most because Kaldar had done it. She had thought that all of her inner warnings to herself and all of her careful reasoning would keep her out of trouble, but she had been wrong. She'd wanted to trust him, and a small, naive part of her desperately wanted him to be better than he pretended to be. This is the precursor of things to come, she told herself. Learn from this. He treated you as a mark once; he will treat you like that always.



Kaldar looked at her. "Does this cross have something to do with why you stopped stealing?"



"The cross is mine, Kaldar. Everything else belonged to our family together. My clothes, my toys, all that stuff could be sold if we needed money or left behind if we had to leave in a hurry. I learned not to get attached to any of it. They were just things. Things changed hands a lot: I stole them from their owners and gave them to Dad, and Dad would sell them. Later, Alex would try to steal my take from me and sell whatever I stole to buy drugs. But the cross was only mine. Even my idiot father understood that. And then a violent man hurt me and took it from me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I felt so helpless. Angry, scared, and helpless. It was like he violated something deep inside me. That was when I realized what it feels like to have something you cherish stolen. So I don't do that anymore."



Guilt nipped at her. Except when my father goads me into it. Well, she would set it right.



"So if I were to take something other than the cross . . ."



"I will set your hair on fire, Kaldar. You'll be bald."



Kaldar got up. "You wouldn't."



"Try me."



They walked back to the clearing. "Friends again?" Kaldar asked.



"Partners," she said.



"You don't want to be friends with me, Audrey?" A seductive note crept into his voice. He said "Audrey" the way a man might say the name of a woman he had just made love to.



"I prefer partners." She raised her chin and winked at him. "Let's keep it professional."



"Isn't it too late for that?"



"Don't we have a heist to plan?"



Kaldar sighed in mock surrender. "Yes, love."



Audrey let the "love" go that time. He had to have some small consolation after being knocked out.



She was in too deep. If she wasn't careful, she'd find herself waking up next to him, then she would be in for a hell of a heartbreak.



At their approach, Gaston hoisted himself up into the wyvern's cabin and stuck his head out. "Is it safe to come out?"



"It's safe," Kaldar told him. "Audrey just explained to me that taking her things without permission is not allowed. Since I've never had anything taken away from me, I apologized."



Gaston hopped back onto the ground.



"They'll be taking us in a bus," Kaldar said. Yonker had told them as much when they agreed to the camp visit. "Then they will walk us across one by one. Audrey is right - if things go sour, I'll need you close. I'll plant the tracker on the bus. Don't take any chances, and don't follow too closely. I don't want one of Yonker's goons shooting you."



"Can do," Gaston said.



A faint buzz spread through the air. Kaldar and Gaston looked up. A metal insect plunged down from the sky and landed on the ground between them. Gaston picked it up, extracted a narrow sliver of crystal, and pulled a gadget from one of the trunks. Shaped like a bronze flower bud, thrusting from a stack encrusted with tiny specks of crystal, the flower terminated in four delicate metal roots bent outward to provide a sturdy base.



"News from the Mirror," Kaldar said.



Gaston pushed the crystals in a complex sequence. The flower bud opened, revealing pale petals in its center made of some strange material, paper-thin, but with a metallic sheen. Gaston set the crystal in the middle of the flower.



Magic ignited inside the crystal and shot out in four streams to the ends of the petals. An image appeared above the crystal, floating in thin air. An average-looking man in nondescript clothes from the Weird looked at them.



"Erwin." Gaston's thick eyebrows crept up.



"The woman in the shot is not a member of the Hand," Erwin said. "Her name is Helena d'Amry, Marquise of Amry and Tuanin. She is a Hound of the Golden Throne. Spider is her uncle. Full file to follow. Be careful, Kaldar."



"Shit," Gaston said.



"What does that mean?" Audrey looked to Kaldar.



"The Hand protects the Dukedom of Louisiana, which is a colony of the Empire of Gaul. The Hounds protect the throne of the Empire. They answer directly to the Emperor," Kaldar said.



"Who is Spider?"



"He's the man I want to kill," Kaldar said.



A piece of paper replaced Erwin's image, covered with weird characters.



"What does it say?" Audrey tugged on Kaldar's arm.



"It says that Helena likes skinning people alive," Gaston answered. "Also says that the guy who threw that head at you is named Sebastian. He is her right-hand man. His kill count is at forty."



"Fourteen?"



"No. Forty."



Oh God.



"This changes nothing." Kaldar swiped the buckets. "We stick to the plan. Right now, we'll concentrate on getting the invitation and feeding the wyvern. We may have to take off in a hurry." He headed down the path to the stream as if he couldn't get away from the two of them fast enough.



"IT isn't really true," Gaston said quietly.



Audrey looked at him.



"What Kaldar said about nothing being taken away from him. It isn't true." Gaston sat down on the crate and checked the disks with the chain attached. "Kaldar has two brothers. Well, he had two brothers, Richard and Erian, but Erian was a lot younger than them and had a different mother, so they were never close. Their father was the head of our family. Their mother left. The family likes to pretend she died, but she didn't. She left all of them, ran off into the Broken. The Mire is a tough place to live. People try to get out any way they can."



Being left by your own parent as a child . . . Her mother had checked out on her emotionally more than once, but at least she didn't leave.



"Then a rival family killed their father. Richard was sixteen, and Kaldar was fourteen. Erian was nine, I think. Aunt Murid, their father's sister, took them in. She was tough. She'd escaped into the Weird when she was young and fought in the Dukedom of Louisiana's army for years, until they found her out, and she had to escape again and come home. Murid was hard. I used to be really scared of her when I was little. Anyway, she raised Richard and Kaldar as her own. Richard was kind of already an adult, I guess. He's very serious. Smartest man I know. Kaldar was always like he is now, funny, hehe-haha, oh look, I stole your money out from under your nose. The family didn't starve because he and Cerise, his cousin, they hustled and sold things in the Broken. Don't ever haggle with him. It's a bad idea. Anyway, so Cerise and Kaldar did whatever they could to keep all of us fed. Kaldar always tried to impress Aunt Murid. He barely remembers his real mom, so she was as close to one as he ever had. Then Spider brought the Hand to the Mire, kidnapped Cerise's parents, and it all went to shit."



This Spider got around. "What did he want?"



"Everything," Gaston said. "Most of all, he wanted the Box. It's complicated. Just think of it as a really powerful weapon. We couldn't use it, but we couldn't let the Louisianans have it, either. The Hand declared war on us. Spider tracked my family down. My dad is a half thoas - that's why I look the way I look - and we always lived apart from the main house. I was supposed to stand watch. I left because of a stupid errand. Spider got into our house and cut off my mother's leg. Chopped it off at the knee with a meat cleaver."



"Oh, my God!" The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. "That's horrific."



"The Hand plays for keeps," Gaston said. "Anyway, we fought them and won, but in the final battle, Aunt Murid died. Kaldar watched it happen and didn't get to her in time. He killed the Hand freak that murdered her. Ask him sometime, he'll show you the scars on his arms. But it was too late."



Oh, Kaldar.



Gaston bit his lower lip. "He's not right. Watching Murid die broke something inside him. He still pretends that everything is cool. You can't tell by looking at him because he acts normal, but the rudder on his boat is stuck. He enlisted in the Mirror, supposedly because he wants to make sure what's left of the family is well taken care of, but that's not the reason. He wants revenge on the Hand, and he doesn't care what happens to him or how he gets it. He will kill them any chance he gets."



"Gaston," she said gently, "I know that you care for your uncle, but Kaldar, he's a grifter. He isn't a killer."



Gaston blinked. "We hold to the Old Ways in our family."



"What does that mean?"



"Kaldar's uncle, the head of our family, has a nickname."



"Aha."



"It's Death."



"I'm sorry?"



"They call him Death," Gaston said. "Because when his sword comes out, people die. We train as swordsmen as soon as we can hold a sword and not fall over. We learn to stretch our flash out onto our swords and use it in fights. Kaldar isn't as good as Grampa Ramiar. He isn't as good as Cerise. Technically, he isn't as good as Richard, his older brother, because Richard flashes white and Kaldar flashes blue. But aside from them, Kaldar has never met anyone he couldn't beat."



"Aha." Tall tales must've run in the family.



"He's killed dozens of people," Gaston insisted. "Probably over a hundred."



"I'm sure he did, Gaston." Sure as the night is light. She couldn't picture Kaldar with a sword. A crowbar, maybe. A gun. But not a sword. "And you are supposed to keep him from killing more?"



"I wasn't even supposed to come. I'm not officially an agent yet, but Cerise talked her husband, William - he's my guardian - into it. I'm supposed to keep an eye on Kaldar, in case he snaps. So he knows all about things being taken away from him. He just won't admit it."



"Gaston, if Kaldar doesn't care if he lives or dies, how are you supposed to keep him safe?"



He shook his head. His face gained a lost expression. Suddenly, he seemed so young, just a kid really, about Jack's age. "I don't know. But I have to try. Most of my family acts like I don't exist anymore. My dad banished me because of what happened to my mom. Kaldar always talks to me. He comes to all of my annual trials. He's my favorite uncle. I don't have many left anymore."



"I will help you," Audrey said. It came out as a complete surprise, but she didn't regret it. "If he loses his head, I will help you hold him back."



Gaston raised his huge hand, stained with the Mirror's clay. "Deal?"



She grasped his fingers and shook. "Deal."



KARMASH pondered the woman. She had small brown eyes and hair of an odd shade, unnatural bright red. Given that she hung upside down, her feet caught by a rope at the ankles, her hair dripped down from her head like a mop. For mid-thirties, she wasn't roughly used, he reflected.



They'd grabbed her off the street, as she left Magdalene Moonflower's building in the Broken, and brought her here, to the abandoned building in the Edge that Karmash had designated as their temporary base. Only he and Mura had managed to cross the boundary into the magicless world. Soma and Cotier had been too altered.



Karmash winced at the memory. Entering the Broken was always painful for him. A few months ago, he wouldn't have even contemplated it, but times changed.



The woman made a tiny noise, like a frightened cat.



Karmash pulled up a filthy chair and sat on it, so their faces were level. "You work for Magdalene Moonflower."



"Please let me down. I didn't do anything. Please let me down . . ."



"Shhh." Karmash put his finger on her lips.



She closed her mouth.



"Let me explain a few things," he said. "I'm a member of the Hand. I'm a spy for the Dukedom of Louisiana in the Weird. That tells you that I don't care about your life. That also tells you that I'm magically enhanced enough to crush your skull with a squeeze of my fingers. Make a note of that; we'll come back to that point later."



She stared at him in terrified silence.



"I was very successful as a spy. I made a nice name for myself. Then, twenty months ago, my officer became a cripple. Some Edgers severed his spine, you see. The Hand chose to view my performance in that affair as less than satisfactory. I lost my assignment, my prestige, and my paycheck. I have expensive tastes, and I hate to compromise on luxury. Now I have a new assignment, a very prestigious assignment with a famous officer. But I'm very new in this crew. You understand how that is, right?"



The woman nodded frantically. Nodding looked odd when performed upside down.



"What I really need to be is her second-in-command. That's the position I'm trained for, and I'm best at it. Unfortunately, this officer already has a second, and he doesn't want to step down. Now my new officer gave me this assignment. This is my chance to prove myself. If I do well, my place in the crew will be assured. If I fail, my career is finished. I tell you all of this so you will understand how important it is for me to succeed. Do you understand?"



The woman nodded again.



"Good. Let's go back to that point I asked you to remember. I don't care about your life. It has no value to me. I don't really want to torture you - it's a bother - but I will. I can cut you, I can burn you, I can pull out your nails, I can slice open your stomach and pour salt on the wound. I can yank out your teeth, I can sodomize you with jagged glass . . ."



The woman began to whimper.



"Shh." Karmash held up his hand. "Let me finish. My point is, I don't really feel like doing any of it. If you tell me what I want to know, I'm perfectly fine with letting you go, provided you disappear for a week or two, until my business is concluded. So now we know where we stand. Let's try this again. Do you work for Magdalene Moonflower?"



"Yes." The woman said.



"Did a dark-haired man and a red-haired woman come to see her in the last five days?"



"Yes."



Karmash smiled. He would deliver Kaldar Mar to Helena on a silver platter. It would cement his position and shake Sebastian from his comfortable perch.



"Where are these people now?"



"I don't know," the woman said.



Karmash frowned.



The woman's words came in a rush. "All I know is that Magdalene made some sort of deal with them. Something that has to do with Ed Yonker."



"Who is this Ed Yonker?"



"He is a preacher."



"A priest?"



"Yes, like that. He has a place in the Edge, a big wooden church in a camp. That's where he does his magic. That's where your man must be. I can show you where it is. It's not far. It's north of here."



"What's your name?"



"Jennifer."



"You did very well, Jennifer. I will cut you down now, and you will show us this church."



"And then I can go?" she asked, her eyes full of tears.



Funny how, in desperate times, people will believe anything. "Yes. And then you can go."