It was Eshi who replied to that. "We have acted through her twice now, and she remains more powerful than she knows. For none can be touched by a god without receiving some of that which is the essence of gods-a form of strength, a form of dominion over time and space. Those are after all creations of gods, and bounded about my mortals. The girl Mignureal remembers nothing of having twice acted for us. But she dreams-0 how she dreams, now!"

Now that shadow-presence spoke, at table's end, and its voice was as a shadow might sound; was as a piece of good leather drawn slowly across a whetstone. "The power of Vashanka remains at bay, and now you may make use of Vashanka's servant, who is ... lost."

"How-why?" Hanse asked, and indeed he was not sure if either question was the right one. Seismic disruptions disturbed his brain and his stomach felt both hollow and drawn together.

Because they needed him, they told him without equivocation, for what was pride to gods?

The Ilsigi his people, and Sanctuary called Thieves' World needed him, and the world needed him. It was not just that Ils and his family would wane and shrink and perish. Ranke would rule supreme over all the world, and Ranke was ruled by men other than good ("for my cousin Savankala is old and weary of the strife of his offspring") and Savankala's warlike, war-loving son ruled Ranke, through its emperor. .

"I may not do battle with Vashanka, though," Ils said, light speaking in the voice of warmth, "for son must battle son."

And with that stated He vanished, and much light left with him. Now the big chamber was draped with shadows, and the Shadow at table's end spoke, in the rustly voice of shadows, hooded and cloaked.

"You think you know me, Hanse, and you are right. I am He to Whom There is no Temple. I am the Shadowed One, Hanse who are Son of the Shadow. It is I who must combat Vashanka, for I am son of Ils as he is son of Savankala my uncle. But the presence here of Ranke, and of Vashanka and his so-powerful servant-these have robbed me of abilities. I can act only through you, Hanse, as my sister may act only through Mignureal. With the sword from him called Stepson, Hanse, who is Godson, is to combat a god."

"Vash- Vashanka?"

Hanse saw the shadowy nod that was his only reply, and again he blurted words: "But I am not skilled with a sword!-Lord of Shadows," he added.

That fortunate fact was not to be his succor as he hoped. Fight a god! Shadowspawn? Hanse? No no, he wanted only to fly from here and lose himself in that cess-warren called the Maze, forever!

But: "There is one in Sanctuary who is more than expert with the sword and the business of killing, and he allows that he owes you. With him now are those who are skilled at teaching use of the sword, and they are his liege-men, Hanse. Hanse: use him. He will see to your instruction, and with pleasure. You shall learn prodigiously and surprise them, for I shall be there with you, Hanse who are the Chosen of Ilsig."

Now Hanse was propping himself with both hands on a high-backed chair, and at last Eshi took notice.

"We are cruel, brother! Shadowspawn-seat yourself."

Shadowspan obeyed with gratitude and alacrity. He almost collapsed into the chair. He took a very deep breath, let part of it out, and was able to form words by letting them ride the breath: "But ... uh ... then what?"

"You will know, Hanse."

Then Shadowspawn twitched away at a sound beside him. He looked at the floor beside his chair, at what had only just appeared there, and could not possibly be there. Clinking, dripping, running water, were the bags off the saddle of a dead man named Bourne. Hanse's saddlebags, from the deeps of the well just outside! The ransom of the Savankh, which he had stolen for little purpose other than his own ego and pride-which had soared, then. The ransom Prince Kitty-cat had told him was his-if he could get it out of the well.

It was irresistible. He bent to the bags, opened one, took forth a few wet silver coins. And he sighed. He dribbled them back in, listening to their sweet lovely clink, and he did it again- keeping a few in his fist. Then, staring thoughtfully down at those bags sending wet runnels along the floor, he sighed.

"You are god and my god, Shadowed One. This... this is safe in the well. Uh, can you put it back?"

Hanse jerked when the bags vanished, and he wondered if he were not the greatest fool in Sanctuary. How silly I am going to feel when I wake up from this dream?

"It is back in the well, Son of the Shadow, and aye, it is safe indeed! And we must go, my sister and I. Our time on this plane is necessarily limited."

Hanse raised an expostulating hand, said "But-" and was alone in Eaglenest. The candles remained, burning. So now did food and wine, on the table before him. He glanced down. The puddles and dark run-stains of water remained. And so did the coins in his hand, a few pieces of silver.

Did that mean it had all indeed happened?

No, of course not. When I wake, the coins will be gone.

The food he took with him, eating as he left, tasted very good in his dream, and the wine was the very best he had ever sipped. Only sipped; the sack remained heavy as he climbed the steps to his room deep in that area of Sanctuary called the Maze. (It was even more dangerous now than ever before, what with all these damned swaggering soldiers, all foreigners; that was one reason he had chosen to leave his money in the well. Even the Maze could no longer be considered safe, Hanse thought.)

He entered his room and closed the door with care, and bolted it with as much care. A window leaked in a little moonlight, and by the time he had the cloak unclasped and off and the tunic over his head, he was able to see pretty well. That was how he discovered that a woman waited in his bed.

A girl, rather. The truly beautiful Lady Esaria. In his bed. She sat up, showing that all she wore was the bedspread, and held out her arms.

Hanse was somehow able to avoid yelling or collapsing. He made it to the bed. She was real. She was waiting for him. It was wonderful, all of it with her. Even his wondering, Is she Eshi?, did not inhibit him or her or his enjoyment or hers. What matter whether she was the Esaria she appeared to be or the goddess; she was higher than he could have aspired, and the experience was supernal.

He deduced that it really was Esaria, not Eshi (in his dream, of course, he reminded himself) because surely Eshi wouldn't have been eating so much garlic.

She was gone in the morning, and he lay smiling, thinking about his dream. Lying on his back, he rolled his head.

He could see cloak, tunic, and wine-sack from here. That brought him wide awake, and sent his hand swinging down beside the pallet to check his buskins. The silver coins were still there. Hanse demonstrated the cliche of sitting bolt upright. Hurling back the spread, he inspected his bed. That required no effort. The evidence of Esaria's visit and her late virginity were vehemently present.

I was not dreaming, he thought, and then he spoke aloud: "I see and I believe. I will do it, 0 Swift-footed One, 0 All-father Ils! I will do it, holiest-but-one Lady Eshi, and Venerable Lady of Ladies Shipri?"

The voice was there, inside his head: All depend on you,son.

Not "all depends," Hanse realized later. "All depend." Meaning "all the gods of Ilsig and the Ilsigi!"

He took up the last of the strong drink he had used all too much since That Night, the night at Kurd's, and he poured it out onto the sheet on the floor, which already showed the scarlet of another form of sacrificial outpouring.