"Jack," he said, "Miss Bahkti has agreed to give us her necklace."

"We already have it. You said it wasn't enough."

"No," Glaeken said softly. "The one she is wearing."

Jack's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, Jack," she said, her voice laden with exhaustion. "What I've seen on my journey from Maui has convinced me that you were not exaggerating. Everything is falling apart. This is not a world I wish to live in. If I keep the necklace, I'll go on living in it—indefinitely. That would be horrible beyond imagining. So I've decided to give up the necklace to someone who can make better use of it and to end my life the way I've lived it—on my own terms."

"Charity isn't in your nature, Bati," Jack said. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Please, Jack," Glaeken said, offended by the younger man's unyielding hostility. "She's agreed to give us the necklace, the rest is really none—"

"I've always been up-front with Bati," Jack said, half-turning toward Glaeken. "She knows that. She knows not to expect anything less." He turned back to Kolabati. "What's the rest of it?"

She rose and stepped to the window. She stared into the living darkness for a long moment.

"Karma," she said. "What's happening out there threatens the turning of the Karmic Wheel."

She turned and faced Jack. Glaeken felt as if he'd been forgotten.

"You know the stains on my karma, Jack. Kusum shared those stains. The weight of that karmic burden drove him to the acts that led to his death at your hands. I've long feared dying because I'm terrified of the retribution my karma will earn for me in the next life. Now…now I fear living more than dying."

She touched her necklace again. "And perhaps…if giving this up will allow the Great Wheel to keep turning…perhaps this deed will undo all the others. Perhaps this act will purify my karma of its stains."

Jack nodded his understanding. Glaeken, too, thought he understood: Kolabati was making a deal with her gods—forgiveness of her karmic burden in return for the necklace. Glaeken wondered if truly there might be a Karmic Wheel. He doubted it. In all his many years he had seen no evidence of it. But he was not about to say anything that might dissuade Kolabati from surrendering her necklace.

Without warning, she reached both hands behind her neck, unfastened the necklace, and handed it to Jack.

"There," she said, her voice husky, her eyes glittering. "This is what you wanted."

Then she turned and headed for the door.

Jack stared a moment at the necklace in his hand, then started after her.

"Bati, wait! Where're you going?"

"Outside. It will end quickly there."

Glaeken leapt to his feet and followed Jack. He passed him and caught up to Kolabati at the door. He grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"No," Glaeken said. "I cannot allow you to die like that. Not out there. Not alone."

Her eyes were frightened, terrified of what lay beyond, waiting for her.

"Everyone dies alone," she said. "I'm used to being alone."

"So was I. But I've learned to draw strength from companionship. Let the years take you. It will be gentle—far gentler than out there."

"I'll stay with you, Bati," Jack said. "I'll sit with you to the…the end."

"No!" she said, her voice rising. "I don't want you to see me—I don't want anyone to see me."

A proud woman, Glaeken thought. And vain, too, certainly. But that was her privilege.

He loosened his grip on her arm and clasped her hand. It was cold, moist, trembling.

"I know a place where you can be alone and comfortable. Where no one will see you. Come."

As he began to lead her through the door, Jack stepped forward.

"Wait."

For the first time since Glaeken had met him, Jack looked awkward. His cat-like grace was gone. The necklace hung in his hand like a leaden weight. He seemed at a loss for words.

"Please, Jack," Kolabati said, turning to him, "I haven't much time."

"I know. I know. I just wanted to tell you that I've thought some awful things about you for the past few years, but what you're doing now…it takes courage. More courage than I think I'd have if positions were reversed. I think you're the bravest woman I know." He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. "I…we all owe you. And we won't forget you."

Kolabati nodded slowly. "I know I don't have your love, so I guess I'll have to settle for that." She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye, Jack."

"Yeah," Jack said, his expression stricken. "Goodbye."

Glaeken lead Kolabati down to Carol's apartment—former apartment. Carol would not re-enter it. He guided her to the bedroom but did not turn on the light.

"It's quiet here. Safe and dark. No one will disturb you."

He heard the springs squeak as she sat on the bed.

"Will you stay with me?" she said in a small voice.

"I thought—?"

"That was Jack. I couldn't be comfortable with him here. But you're different. Your years stretch far beyond mine. I think you understand."

Glaeken found a chair and pulled it up beside the bed.

"I understand."

His sentiments echoed Jack's: this was a brave woman. He took her hand again as he had upstairs.

"Talk to me," he said. "Tell me about the India of your childhood—the temple, the rakoshi. Tell me how you spent your days before you came to wear the necklace."

"I seems that I was never young."

Glaeken sighed. "I know. But tell me what you can, and then I will tell you of my youth, what little I remember of it."

And so Kolabati spoke of her girlhood, of her parents, of her fear of the flesh-eating demons who roamed the tunnels beneath the Temple-in-the-Hills. But as she talked on, her voice grew hoarse, raspy. The air in the room grew moist and sour as her tissues returned their vital fluids to the world. Her voice continued to weaken until speech seemed a terrible effort. Finally…

"I'm so tired," she said, panting.

"Lie down," Glaeken told her.

He guided her to a recumbent position, gripping her shoulders and lifting her knees. Beneath her clothes her flesh felt wizened, perilously close to the bone.

"I'm cold," she said.

He covered her with a blanket.

"I'm so afraid," she said. "Please don't leave me."

He held her hand again.

"I won't."

"Not until it's completely over. Do you promise?"

"I promise."

She did not speak again. After a time her breathing became harsh and rapid, rising steadily to a ragged crescendo. Her bony fingers squeezed Glaeken's in a final spasm—

And then relaxed.

All was quiet.

Kolabati was gone.

Glaeken released her hand and stepped into the hall outside the apartment. Jack was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the door. He looked up at Glaeken.

"Is she—?"

Glaeken nodded and Jack lowered his head.

"Collect both necklaces and the blade fragments and be ready to leave as soon as it's light."

Jack nodded, still looking down. "Where?"

"I'll tell you later. I must remain with her a while longer."

Jack looked up again. His red-rimmed eyes questioned.

Glaeken said, "I promised I'd stay until the end."

Back in the bedroom, the scent of rot was vague in the air. He resumed his seat and found Kolabati's hand again. The skin was cold, dry, as flaky as filo dough. He clasped it until it crumbled to dust and ran through his fingers. And when the sky began to lighten, he drew the curtains, closed the door, and locked the apartment.