There was a flutter of dark robes in the doorway, and Maxian caught a glimpse of the face of the blond one as they departed, looking back in sorrow.

The room was quiet, and Maxian felt the three women depart through the garden door. When they were gone, he breathed a long shuddering breath and leaned back heavily on the table.

“They have departed,” he said to the room. “Gaius, go and close the garden door.”

Abdmachus sat down on the floor and curled his arms around his knees. “Lord Prince, that was… that was a very close thing.”

Maxian looked over at the Persian and one side of his mouth twitched up in a tiny smile.

“We are strong enough,” he said. “We could have held them off for a little while. Gaius and Krista would not have been affected by their power.”

There was a clicking sound behind him. As Maxian turned, he saw Krista sliding the spring gun back under the coverlet. She met his gaze with a solemn look, and then suddenly a smile lit her face.

“If you fancied her, Lord Prince,” she said, “I would have killed you.”

Maxian nodded and turned back to the homunculus, which had sat immobile in the middle of the room through- out the entire affair.

“So,” he said to its impassive face, “you are the creature called Khiron…”

Slowly the head of the thing turned up and its yellow eyes met Maxian’s.

“I am Khiron,” it said in a rusty, dry voice.

“Who is your master, Khiron?” Maxian’s voice was patient, as if he were speaking to a small child.

“My master is the Bygar Dracul,” it said, though its features seemed puzzled.

Maxian leaned closer, staring into the flat reptilian eyes.

“The Bygar is dead,” he said. “I am your master now. I am Maxian Atreus. I have given you life; I can withhold it as well. You serve me.”

“I serve Maxian Atreus,” it repeated back to him. Suddenly it twitched and stood up. Maxian backed away, folding his arms over his chest. He seemed pleased. The corpse man looked around, apparently aware for the first time. It surveyed the room slowly, pausing when it saw Abdmachus and Krista. Its gaze returned to Maxian. “You are my master.”

“What do you remember, Khiron? What was the last thing that you saw?”

The homunculus paused, the muscles under the translucent skin bunching around its jaw. The sight of them sliding under the gelid skin filled Krista with a particular revulsion. This thing was like a skinless snake, abominable to look upon. She stole a glance at the Prince, but he seemed filled with a great good humor to see his power at work, reviving this corpse from the dead. Under the coverlet, her index finger curled around the trigger of the spring gun. She knew that she could put the six-inch-long steel bolt through the side of his head, perhaps even straight through his ear. He would be dead in an instant. She knew that Gaius would die, a puppet with cut strings, and this Khiron creature as well. Only Abdmachus would be left to deal with. Her eyes slid to the Persian, but the sight of the dead thing walking and talking held him enraptured.

We have left the Western Empire, she thought. Perhaps we are far enough away to escape the curse of the city. No, I must be sure that I will live.

“I remember fire.” The dead thing’s voice was hollow and echoed with pain. “My master was speaking in the garden room with important visitors. I brought a boy for them to see; a precious little boy with hair of red gold. The dark one, he found the boy pleasing, he wished to purchase him… Then there were lights in the sky, and then fire, like the sun rising. Everything was aflame; I leapt into the dumbwaiter to escape. It was cold and dark there. Then the house shook and I was buried. Things fell and I could not move. I could not breathe. Water filled the shaft. It filled my mouth. It was dark.”

The head of the creature slumped ontp its chest. Its hands twitched with palsy. Maxian tipped its head back that he might see its eyes. They were half closed.

“Khiron, you have life again. You live. You walk, you talk, and you see and hear. I am your master, I command you to live again.” A dark-blue gleam shimmered on Maxian’s hand and faded into the side of the homunculus’s face. The eyes opened, aware.

“Your old master knew many secrets, Khiron. You must have learned many things in his employ. Tell me these secrets and you will live. Tell me these things and you shall have blood to drink, fresh blood.”

The head of the thing rose up, a hungry look upon its face. The yellow eyes were filled with fire at last, no longer dead and pale. “Blood?” it whispered. A hand clutched feebly at Maxian’s sleeve. “Blood for me?”

“Yes,” Maxian said, his voice soothing, “blood. Hot and still pulsing with the fever of life.”

Khiron collapsed to the floor, bowing his head before the prince. “O master, please, give me blood and I will serve you always! Ask of me, and I will tell!”

Maxian looked down, his face lit by a kind smile. He caressed the knobby skull of the thing. “Did you ever hear your master mention something called the Sarcophagus of the Conqueror? An old thing, long thought lost.”

Khiron twisted his head around and smiled up at the Prince, his teeth sharp and black. “Yes, master, many times. My old master desired it greatly-it was this thing, this coffin of gold and lead, that brought the dark one to my master’s house.”

Krista felt Abdmachus tense and looked over at the little man. The Persian was staring at the homunculus with a dreadful look on his face.

“Say on, good servant,” Maxian said.

“O master, the Dracul knew many things-he was a strong wizard-but he yearned for great power like a Roman for gold. He collected secrets and sold them for things that would make him stronger. The dark one came desiring a boon, and the master, O he would give it. The dark one had the secret the master wanted. The dark one had seen the coffin of gold and lead. They had come to arrange the exchange when the fire came.”

Maxian held the homunculus’s head between his hands. His voice was soft. “Where is the Sarcophagus, Khiron? What did your master learn?”

“O master, they sent me from the room! I only heard a snatch, only the tiniest bit of the speaking! Please, may I have the blood?” The voice of the creature was abject, begging. Maxian shook his head slowly.

“You must tell me,” the Prince said, “then you may have blood, if I will it.”

Khiron laid his head low and wept in anguish, tears of dust trickling down his cheeks. “Please, master, only a tiny sip, only a finger’s worth!”

“What did you hear as you were leaving the room, Khiron?” Maxian’s voice was harder now.

“I heard them only mention a place, master, some terrible place where no one could go and live. A city in the uttermost East. The dark one spoke of it, he named it Dasta-gird.”

Abdmachus hissed in quiet surprise. To Krista’s eye he seemed more fearful than ever.

“Good, good, Khiron,” the Prince said. He drew the homunculus upright. “You shall have blood. Abdmachus, fetch more of the pig’s blood from the kitchen.”

Abdmachus did not move, staring instead at the corpse man with a dreadful expression on his face.

“Abdmachus?” Maxian stepped toward the Persian, concerned.

“What…” Abdmachus’ voice quavered, “what name did this ‘dark one’ bear?”

Khiron turned, slightly crouched behind the Prince. He smiled to see the fear in the living man. “My old master named him, fellow servant. He named him Dahak.”

Abdmachus turned utterly white and his legs quavered and gave way. Maxian was at his side in an instant, holding him up. The Persian clutched at his arm with clawlike fingers.

“What is it?” Maxian was anxious, for the old Easterner was in poor color. “What is this Dahak? Krista, is there any infusion left?”

Maxian lay the old man back gently on the floor and put a pillow of rolled cloth under his head. Krista brought the last of the hot infusion over from the table and knelt, brushing her gown behind her, to pour a cup. The Prince tipped the thin porcelain cup to Abdmachus’ lips. The old man drank gratefully. His veins stood out on his forehead and his skin was chalky.