“How?” Larad said. “I doubt they will step aside from the doors if we ask them.”

Farr looked at Travis. “They might, if he asked them.”

Travis shook his head. How could he control the statues?

“This city rose out of the sand at the touch of your blood,” Farr said, drawing close to Travis. “And these statues are part of this city. Use your blood to command them.”

Travis wanted to argue, but he felt the eyes of the others on him, and he knew without looking that Ti’an was getting closer; he could feel her like a heat.

“I’ll try,” he said, then moved toward the statues blocking the door.

The statues’ eyes glowed crimson. They reached toward him with massive stone hands, moving faster than he had expected. Travis raked his fingernails over the knuckles of his right hand, prying away the scabs, so that blood flowed.

“Get back,” he shouted, thrusting his hand toward the statues.

They kept coming. The floor shook under their feet; their hands reached for him.

“I said get back!”

Again Travis thrust out with his hand, and this time red droplets flew from his bleeding knuckles, spattering the outstretched arm of the spider-eyed woman.

The statue stopped moving. The droplets of blood glittered on its arm—then vanished, as if absorbed by the stone. The light in the statue’s eyes changed from crimson to gold. It had worked. . . .

“Travis, look out!”

Grace’s shout propelled him into action. He ducked barely in time to avoid the crushing swing of a stone fist. He looked up to see the statue of the falcon-beaked man bearing down on him. Its eyes still shone crimson. Travis’s knuckles were already scabbing over in the dry air; he clawed at them again, trying to open them up, to make the blood flow.

There was no time. The male statue brought its fist down toward Travis’s head. He tensed, waiting to be crushed to a pulp. The stone fist whistled down—

—and struck the floor next to Travis with a deafening crash. The force of it threw him to one side. When he looked up, awe filled him. The statue of the spider-eyed woman was grappling with the male statue. The colossi rocked back and forth, arms entangled, one’s eyes blazing crimson, the other gold. The male statue opened its beak in a silent cry. It shoved hard against the other statue, knocking it back. However, their stone limbs were still entangled. As the one statue toppled, it dragged the other with it.

They struck the doors of the palace, slamming them shut with a boom!Then the statues crashed against the floor, breaking apart into a heap of rubble. The head of the female statue shattered, while that of the male rolled to a halt against the door. The light in its eyes flickered, then went out.

“You did it, Master Wilder,” Larad said, gazing at the fallen statues in fascination. “You stopped them.”

“And us as well,” Farr said, face haggard. “The doors are blocked.”

Travis stared as elation gave way to new fear. Farr was right. The debris from the statues was piled in front of the doors. And the doors opened inward; they could not be opened without clearing away the rubble. Farr pushed against the falcon-beaked head, but it was no use; it had to weigh two tons.

Grace was looking at him, her green eyes overbright. “Now what do we do, Travis?”

Nothing, he wanted to say. However, before he could speak, a high, keening wail filled the hall.

The sound was like a siren, only higher, louder, threatening to split Travis’s skull. He thrust his hands against his ears, but it was no use. The sound kept building. He turned to see Ti’an no more than a dozen paces away. Her mouth was open; she was making the noise. It was a scream of fury.

Just when Travis was sure the keening would drive him mad, Ti’an’s mouth shut, and the sound ceased. Farr slumped to his knees with a moan, and Nim was sobbing as Vani clutched her tight. Travis knew they had to do something, but the piercing wail had addled his mind; he couldn’t think.

Before he could react, Ti’an thrust her hands out before her, and the gem on her forehead blazed with renewed flame. A sound like an earthquake filled the hall.

Larad stared up, his shattered face going white.

“No,” Grace murmured. “Oh, no.”

All along the length of the hall, on either side, crimson light flickered to life in the eyes of the statues—not two of them this time, but all—twenty or more. Dust clouded the air as the statues stirred, swinging stone arms and legs, turning ancient faces toward the intruders. The floor shook as they stepped down from their pedestals.

Travis pushed Grace aside as one of the male statues bore down on him, falcon beak clicking. It opened its gigantic hand, grabbing for Travis. Stone fingers, each as thick as a tree trunk, began to close around him. He rubbed his hand against them, smearing them with blood. The blood vanished, and the stone fingers ceased moving. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and out of the hand, then leaped away, hitting the floor and rolling.

He lay stunned for a moment, listening to the crash of breaking stone behind him. Had the statue turned to fight the others? A high-pitched scream jolted him out of his stupor. It was Nim. He lurched to his feet, and pain sparkled in his ribs. He turned around to see what was happening.

Then he froze. Ti’an stood before him. Her golden body shone through her beaded garment, as if she were clad only in light. He could see the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, and the darker bronze of her nipples. Again fire surged in him, and he could not move. The shouts and noise of breaking stone faded to a dull roar in his ears.

Ti’an tilted her head—he was by far the taller—to look at him. Her face was expressionless, a thing of flawless beauty forged of gold. However, in her eyes smoldered an ancient fury. She reached for him, to draw his head down close to hers . . .

With the last shred of his will, Travis flung his hand up in a warding gesture and stepped back. Blood flew from his wounded knuckles, spattering her outstretched hand. Ti’an paused, gazing at the red droplets on her finger. Then, languorously, she brought her finger to her mouth, touching the drop of Travis’s blood to her lips.

Ti’an’s onyx eyes went wide. A shudder passed through her, rippling her garment. Then a new light shone in her gaze—not fury but something fiercer, hungrier. Her full lips parted to reveal white, pointed teeth.

“My husband,” she said, and before he could move, Ti’an reached out and pressed a hand against Travis’s chest.

Her hand seemed to burn through the cloth of his serafi, and through skin, muscle, and bone as well, so that it felt as if she was touching his heart, wrapping her fingers around it, setting it afire. The sounds of the struggle behind Travis faded, replaced by a rhythmic drone. He was aware of shadows moving on the edge of his vision, some large, some small. It almost seemed he recognized one of them.

Grace?he tried to say. He started to glance toward a woman who had stumbled to the floor while a massive shape loomed above her.

A hot finger touched his chin, turning his head with inexorable strength. Ti’an’s face filled his gaze, and he could see nothing else. Her finger traced a smoldering line down his throat, his chest, his stomach.

The heat burned in him now like a sun in his chest. A sweat of desire slicked his skin, and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Her beads shifted as she moved, and he caught a glimpse of the triangle between her legs, dark with mystery. He felt his body stir, wishing nothing else than to become one with her. All other thoughts fled him. He moved close to her, bending his head, wanting to join his mouth to hers.

“Not yet,” she said, her voice like sharp music, pushing him back with irresistible strength.

For a moment Travis felt an anguish such as he had never known. How could she spurn him? He would rather die than not have her. Then his pain was forgotten as she took his hand in her own, her slender fingers closing around his in a viselike grip.