Tor’s face reddened, her fists came up. “Listen. Summer, you don’t joke about a thing like that with a Winter woman!”

His grin fell away abruptly. “By “r — by the gods, that’s not what I meant! If it’s the same Herne . you’ve got nothing to worry about. He won’t give you any trouble this time. You’ll find him near the Parallax View. I’ll pay the expenses, and make it worth your while; just make sure that he never knows why you’re doing it. Don’t ever mention me.” He lowered his voice, turning away from Fate. “If I don’t get what I want, you’ll regret it, and even Pollux won’t be enough to keep you safe.”

Tor’s pallid face turned paler; he felt a brief surprise as he realized that she believed him. “Meet me back here at the same time in — one week.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said weakly, and oozed out from behind the barricade of his body. “Come on, Pollux, let’s go.”

“Whatever you say, Tor.” He stepped down off the porch and followed her away. She hit him spitefully on the chest, went on down the alley rubbing her hand.

“Shut up, you damn junk pile; I’m going to trade you in on a dog’

Fate was sitting again, decorating the naked, gaping mask form as though it were the only reality in the universe. She did not speak to him, or look up with any of her eyes.

Sparks felt his elation implode as he saw her withdrawing from him — as though she too were setting herself apart from him; or as though he had done it for her.

“You said I’d find a way to solve the problem. And I’ve done it.”

“Yes. I suppose you have.” She picked up a piece of satin cloth.

“I thought you didn’t make moral judgments.”

“I try not to. We all choose our own paths to hell. But some of the choices are easier to watch than others… I don’t like to watch my friends being hurt.”

“I just said that. I wouldn’t hurt her.” But he knew that just for a moment he had been inches from it. And that was the moment that Fate had seen.

“ ‘Today’s word is tomorrow’s deed,’ ” she quoted softly. “And I consider you my friend, too.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still.” She looked up at him, but without smiling. “Take care. Sparks. Life isn’t woven from a single thread, you know.”

“All right.” He shrugged, not really understanding. “I’ll see you again, Fate.”

She smiled at last, but it wasn’t the smile he had been waiting for. “

“In one week, at this same time.”

“Scuse me, buddy, have you seen a guy called H-Herne?” Tor broke off as the derelict’s face looked up at her, glaring with the use less hatred of a chained animal, and she realized that she had seen it before. Gaunt and bearded, it was still the same face: a dark off worlder face, a too-handsome face with eyes that were long lashed and beautiful and as cold as death. She stood for a moment staring down, pinched between the vise-fingers of the present and the past. This was Herne, the same Herne , whose eyes looking at her once had not seen a human being but a thing.

But there was no sign of recognition when he looked up at her now, no acknowledgment of the irony of their reunion. She backed up a step from the stink of him, his filthy coveralls, remembering the richness of his clothes the last time. Maybe the drugs had gotten the last laugh on him after all… She almost smiled. There were a half-empty bottle and a dented can with a handful of coins in it sitting on the box beside him. As she came along the alley she had seen a Blue lieutenant with incongruous pink freckles give him a citation for begging. But the truculent expectation faded from his face as her question registered; he inventoried her, and Pollux with her, in a quick, expressionless glance. “Maybe I know a Herne . Can’t seem to remember.” His hand closed significantly around the can. “Why?”

She dug into a pocket, tossed her loose change into the can. “I hear he’s down on his luck. Maybe I want to change it.”

“You?” He took a swig from the bottle, wiped his hand across his mouth. “Again, why?”

“That’s between him and me.” She folded her arms, almost beginning to enjoy the game. “So where is he?”

“I’m Herne ,” grudgingly.

“You?” She echoed his incredulity; laughed, going it one better. “Prove it.”

“You bitch!”

She leaped back from the memory of his brutal strength; but he only swayed forward on the box, would have fallen off it if Pollux had not put out a rigid hand to push him upright again. Tor stood staring, still beyond his reach, while she tried to assess what she had just seen. “So that’s what he meant. You’re a cripple!”

His mouth twisted. “Who? Who sent you here?”

“Nobody important.” She shrugged awkwardly. “I’m the one that wants to see you, Herne. I’m the one you better worry about.” She leaned against Pollux, ran a hand along the cool metal of his shoulder, smiling. “What do you figure you’d do to me, if our positions were reversed…?”

Startled doubt tightened the muscles in his cheek. He studied her again, and Pollux. For a moment she thought she saw recognition; or maybe it was only the fear of recognition. How many enemies did a man like that have in a place like this… how many real friends did he have in the whole universe? Herne slouched against the wall, resigned. “Do what you want, I don’t give a fuck.” He took another drink from the bottle.

“No.” She shook her head, remembering Dawntreader and her own troubles with something nearing empathy. “Just asking. So how’s business?” She peered into the can.

“Slow.” She felt him refusing to ask her her own business; a subtle tension filled the half of his body that still responded. Patrons from the Parallax View passed them by with averted eyes.

“You’ve come a long way down, since the last time we met.”

He didn’t remember. She was certain now, not sure if she was glad or sorry. “I’ve begged before; it never killed me.”

She shifted her weight against Pollux, looked him over slowly. “I think it might, this time.”

He glanced up, down again; didn’t answer.

“I hear you really knew your way around the Maze before your-uh, accident.” She wondered what or who had done this to him. “I hear you really know which way the power flows, off world and on. Well, that’s worth something to me.”

“Why?” sharply.

“What’s it to you?” She countered, not sure what reason was going to come off her tongue that wasn’t the truth. “You ask a lot of questions for a beggar.”

“I want to know why a Winter would want to know. There’s only one Winter—” He frowned.

“There’s thousands of us, and we’re just as interested in making it big as your are, foreigner.” She unfastened a pocket and pulled out her credit card, held it up in front of him as Sparks had held his up to her. “Maybe I don’t want to be a loader forever. Maybe I want to get my slice before all of you go off world and take the cake with you.” She felt a dim surprise that the words made sense to her.

He nodded, noncommittal, as though they even made sense to him. “You said it’s worth something. How much?” He squinted at the card face.

“I don’t have much… but it’s more than you’ve got. You even got a place to stay?”

A single shake of his greasy, unkempt head.

She swore. “That’s what I figured. You can stay at my place, for now. You need somebody around to feed you and clean up after you anyhow.”

“I need money, not somebody to wipe my goddamn nose! Don’t waste my time.” He reached over his shoulder and scratched, grimacing.

She watched him scratch. “It’s a wonder anybody gets close enough to put anything in that,” she gestured at the can. “What are you going to do when your clothes crawl right off your back some night?”

“You want to take ‘em off tonight, instead, sweetheart?” He leered.

Her mouth thinned; she forced it back into a smile. “You’re not my type, cripple. Pollux here does all my dirty work for me. He’s used to dragging around dead weights.”