By the time the suborbital landed in Seattle, it was late afternoon. Serrin awakened from his doze and stared out the window at the haze shimmering all the way from the runway to the terminal. Great, he thought, limping his way toward customs, that's all I need. Sweltering heat.

By the time he picked up his bags, he'd decided to get a room at the Warwick. Last he'd heard, that luxury hotel had begun to specialize in unobtrusive security for corporate clients who expected a little more than the norm. The rates would be exorbitant, of course, but he was too

exhausted to care.

After a taxi deposited him at the hotel's elegant entrance, Serrin had no difficulty getting a room even without reservations. He asked to have his bags sent up, then took the elevator up to the small suite. Once inside, the door safely secured, he sat down on the edge of the perfectly made bed to work out his next move. But rubbing his chin reflectively only made him realize how badly he

needed a shave.

In the bathroom, Serrin tried not to look too closely at the face staring back at him from the mirror as he wet his skin, then he stopped suddenly and laid the razor down on

the sink.

Maybe a beard wouldn't be a bad idea, he thought. Even with the stubble, I don't look much like that Newsday photo anymore. No one seemed to recognize me down in the lobby. Why should they? New York's week-old news isn't going to raise much of a fuss in Seattle. No, scratch the beard. He made a first pass with the cool steel of the blade, the familiar act of shaving relaxing him enough to ponder the situation calmly.

I need some muscle around me, at least for a while, Serrin reasoned. Then I can try to find out who's after me. He toweled his face, ran a bath, and ordered some sushi from room service.

Stripping off his clothes and rubbing at his painful leg, Serrin wondered why he thought of Seattle as home at all. He hadn't lived here for more than a couple of months at a time in the last five years. And the number of people he could call friends wasn't more than a handful. Besides, he realized guiltily, he hadn't made much effort at keeping in touch with them. Worse, a few calls soon informed him that his two best hopes were, in one case, out of town, and in the other, had upped and relocated to Nagoya.

He'd just bundled himself in the hotel bathrobe when his food arrived. Staring glumly down at the white and pink chunks of fish resting on their bed of rice and hints of vegetation, the elf wondered why he'd ordered it. "Um, wine too, I think," he mumbled. "Red or white?" the waiter asked. "Bring me a bottle of anything red from Australia," Serrin told him, then laughed just for the hell of it. "And two packs of Dunhills." He searched his pockets for some money, then handed the man a twenty. The waiter shrugged; it wasn't a bad tip. The elf was obviously some kind of chiphead or dope freak, but he didn't seem likely to offer any trouble.

After the food, mostly uneaten, and the wine, wholly consumed inside thirty minutes with a side order of three hungrily consumed cigarettes, the elf considered making some more phone calls but decided to sleep instead. Pleasantly lulled by a haze of alcohol, he checked the news service pages on the trid, but the index contained no entry for Serrin Shamandar. That was enough for now. He yawned prodigiously and just managed to crawl under the covers before falling fast asleep.

"Where did you turn this up, Magellan?" Jenna asked, her gaze turning pensively out across Crater Lake, her long elven ringers poised like mantis legs on the sheaf of paper in her lap.

"One has contacts," the male elf sitting opposite her said casually. He knew the green eyes turning to him from the splendors of the Tir Tairngire countryside were hard and cold, but by now he'd learned how to face them down and keep some secrets to himself. He also knew she considered him too valuable to be pressed too hard.

"You have eyes and ears in the councils of the O'Briens?" she said, astonished. Jenna paid Magellan well, but he was going to deserve a bonus for this. If he'd somehow managed to worm his way into the secrets of the elves of Tir na n6g, he was a priceless resource to her. The elves of that faraway country held most of their Tir Tairngire fellows in contempt, and it was almost impossible to learn anything of what they were up to. Unless one was Ehran the Scribe, of course. But he wasn't about to circulate whatever he knew to the other Princes of the Tir Tairngire High Council. Especially not to her.

"It cost me," he said simply, evading her question. "Call it a hundred thousand."

"Agreed." She wasn't going to quibble about the price. This was dynamite if the SES scientific evaluations were correct.

"You will not breathe a word to any other Prince," she said, her tone almost brutal. "I have to think hard on this."

"Have I ever betrayed your secrets?" he said, finding the courage to shoot her a challenging look.

She looked away quickly. "No. Forgive me. It's just that we can't risk a fool like Laverty finding out about something this big. He'd send a squad out to destroy this precious thing. That would be unthinkable."

"There is more, Jenna," the male ventured. "The intelligence report on the German is correct. He is exactly what they say he is. I have made other inquiries." His little finger crooked itself around the long flutted stem of his glass, and he swirled the red liquid around inside the wide, deep bowl.

"No doubt that cost you also," she smiled. The warm glow of what this magical discovery might mean was beginning to permeate her now. The ultimate power of life and death was being offered to her and the thrill was almost too strong to bear.

"Another thirty thousand for research," he said, making a dismissive gesture with his free hand. "Cheap at twice the price.

"I've also learned that he has certain special requirements that aren't easily satisfied. That have led him to kidnap certain rare individuals who can meet those requirements. Apparently his agents botched one such attempt very recently. It looks, of all things, as if the local police stopped two of his hit squad for some minor traffic violation and so they never got to the right place at the right time."

The two elves laughed at the absurd irony. "The target was a mage, as before. I haven't had time to do much research on him, except that he was the one who recently rescued the mayor of New York from being killed by some mad Shi'ite. Three-day wonder stuff. He's disappeared for the time being, but he's got to re-surface again one of these days."

"Find out more about him," Jenna ordered. "We don't want any loose ends."

"There's one complication," Magellan said slowly, realizing that Jenna must not have heard or read about the mage, or else she'd know this one important fact herself. "He is an elf."

"Ah," she said, her hands tightening for just an instant into fists. "Now that does rather complicate matters. Maybe. All right, but we must still find out everything we can about him. Maybe he'll just be glad to have gotten out of this alive, and won't do any snooping around."

"I'll get on to it right away," Magellan said, draining his glass and getting to his feet. He was about to turn toward the door when her expression stopped him.

"Later," she ordered. "You should know by now what the scent of power does to me."

"I was wondering about that," he said with a sly smile. "Let me make two calls to get the other matter started. Then, uh, the water pool?"

"I think I'd prefer you as my servant," she said drily. "Make your calls later."

Serrin woke at seven in the morning after thirteen hours of sleep. He felt less hung over than he had any right to, but it wasn't until he'd drunk half a liter of the steely mineral water on his bedside table that he paused to take a breath. His eyes caught the red winking of the telecom as he set the bottle down. A few taps on the console told him that a call had been received at his message-forwarding number and relayed through to the hotel. For a moment he couldn't even recall having made those arrangements, but then he gave up trying to remember. When he saw who it was had called him, he returned the call right away.