The old woman reached up onto a shelf and found a pair of yellowed ivory cubes. She set them on the counter with a rude grunt. Chenaya crooked a finger at Zip. "Roll 'em," she ordered. "High number wins."

He paused, studying her, their gazes locked in a game of dare and challenge. Finally, he swept up the cubes and tossed them. "Eleven," Chanaya announced. "Not bad." Then, she rolled them. "Twelve." Zip seized the dice again and beamed when eleven black dots showed up once more.

Chenaya didn't even bother to look as she gathered and dropped the ivory bits.

Zip blinked.

Twelve.

"I can't be beaten," she assured Zip, never taking her eyes from his. "Not at anything."

"Kind of takes the fun out of life, doesn't it?" Zip said, dead-pan.

She flicked a glance over her shoulder. "Call your man," she instructed him.

Zip did. The man she'd nearly shaved with the throwing star took a step forward. "The black smudge on the far wall," she suggested. The man threw his belt dagger. One of the daggers from her boot followed. Two good throws, but hers was clearly nearer the center of the mark. "Not at anything," she repeated.

"So you have luck and skill," Zip conceded. "That doesn't mean squat against the Riddler's god-or his curse, or whatever it is."

She rolled her eyes; a long sigh hissed between her teeth. "I'll bet you another kiss," she said at last. "You've played guess-the-number?" She waited for him to nod. "Go to the far end of the bar, take your knife, and carve any number between one and ten. No, wait. Let's make it fun-between one and twenty-five."

Mama Becho waddled up, her gray hair flying. "Oh, no, ye don't!" she cried. "Yer not cuttin' on my fine board, yer not. Not easy to come by good wood. An' I've jus' about enough of this spittin' and breakin' mugs an'-"

Chenaya pulled her purse free and upended it on the counter. Coins spilled everywhere. She dropped the empty leather bag on the top of the pile. "Mama," she said softly, "shut up."

"All right," Zip announced from the other end, covering his scratching with one hand, flipping his knife nervously and catching it.

"Forty-two," she answered smugly. "Cheater."

Zip stared at the number he'd carved into the wood, at his knife, at his men, at her. Without another word, he went to Chenaya and made good on his bet.

The glaring sun had long since disappeared beyond the western edge of the world, and beautiful Sabellia, resplendent in her fullness, scattered diamond ripples over the ocean's surface. Chenaya dangled her feet over the end of Empire Wharf, stared at the glistening water, and listened to the muted sounds of a nearly silent thieves' world. The old pilings creaked gently, rocked by the relentless surf; the riggings and guy wires of nearby fishing ships hummed and sang in the night wind. There was little else.

It was one of the places she went when she was troubled. She couldn't say for sure exactly what it was disturbed her, but she felt it like a gloomy darkness on her soul. She tried to dismiss it. The water often made her melancholy. But the mood lingered.

She touched the bag that was tied to her belt. It contained a mixture of sugar and the high-grade krrf Gestus had obtained for her. She squeezed it and grinned. No, it certainly wasn't that which bothered her. She planned to enjoy her little prank on Tempus.

What then?

Far out on the water something flashed in the moonlight. There was a muffled splash. She peered, straining to see, and spied the silver gleam of a dorsal fin as it cut through the waves. Briefly visible, it submerged and was gone. A dolphin, she wondered? A shark?

The world-particularly this thieves' world-was full of sharks. She thought of Kadakithis and Shupansea hidden away in their palace, and she thought of Zip and Downwind. She thought of the betrayal she planned.

She knew, then, the cause of her dark mood.

But it must be done, she swore. Sooner or later, it would be done.

Chenaya extended her arm; the metal rings of her manica shone richly under Sabellia's glory. She pursed her lips, gave a thin, piercing whistle.

It was impossible in the darkness to see Reyk; she didn't even hear the beat of his pinions, leading her to guess he had been circling overhead and had simply plummeted in response to her call. She felt only a sudden rush of air on her cheek and then his weight and the tension of his talons on her forearm.

She stroked the falcon very lightly down the back of his head and between his wings. "Hello, my pet. Did you feast?" She had expected to find traces of beyarl plumage between his talons. Several of the sacred birds had skimmed the water earlier. But Reyk's claws were clean. She took a jess from her belt and slipped it around his leg.

Together, they sat quietly and watched the goddess's argent chariot sail over the ocean. Chenaya didn't even mind that the moon seemed to watch her, too. The light seemed to ease her troubled spirit, and eye to eye, she thanked Sabellia for that small relief.

Reyk stretched suddenly to full wing-span. Talons tightened on her arm; he emitted a single, sharp note.

The falcon's keen eyes had spotted Dismas before Chenaya had heard his footsteps on the wharf. Reyk calmed immediately, recognizing the gladiator as he padded with a burglar's swift stealth toward his mistress. "Now, lady," Dismas whispered urgently. "It's the perfect time and place. We may not get a better chance."

Chenaya squeezed the bag of krrf and sugar again, feeling her pulse quicken. She had waited at the wharf a long time for Dismas to report. "What of Walegrin and Rashan?" she asked, getting to her feet.

"They should already be on their way to Land's End. Gestus carried your message and returned to keep watch while I came for you."

She removed Reyk's jess and returned it to her belt one-handed. "Where is he?"

The huge gladiator hesitated only a moment and swallowed. "With the vampire woman, Ischade." He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. "Not far, but a good run. We should hurry. He's been there an hour already."

"Then up, pet." She sent Reyk aloft. His pinions beat a steady rhythm as he climbed into the night sky and disappeared. She squeezed the krrf bag once more. "Let's go," she called, tapping her friend on the arm in comradely fashion. There was more than a hint of glee in her voice.

Dismas led her down the Wideway, up the Street of Smells and along a narrow road she didn't know. The road rutted out; they were in undergrowth denser than any she'd imagined this side of the White Foal. They stopped in a wide ditch.

"There," he whispered.

The windows were dark; no light spilled out. Nothing told that anyone was within. Yet Tempus Thales' huge-muscled Tros horse was tethered to the gate.

"An hour, you say?" she questioned Dismas. "Where's our other partner?"

He pointed silently to the deeper brush.

She smiled and stole a peek at Tempus's magnificent mount. A very rare breed, Tros horses. No other steed could match them for strength, endurance, intelligence. She had seen only two others in her lifetime. It was a cause for wonder that Tempus had left the beast unguarded.

Yes, a rare breed, Tros horses, and she meant to have one.

"Get Gestus and make for Land's End as quick as you can. Have everything ready at the family stables when I arrive. Have Walegrin and Rashan there, too."

"But, mistress," Dismas protested. "The vampire and the Riddler-you may need our help."

Chenaya shook her head sternly. "I can handle them. Do as you're told and have everything ready. Discreetly, too. I don't want my father to know anything about this." She smacked his chest with the flat of her hand and gave him a little shove. "Go!"