"That's only because there hasn't yet been any peace established," Laurel insisted. "Once the leaders formally make that decision, Nikolos will fall into line like the rest of us."

"But how do you know that?" Jonah pressed. "It's a nice theory, but you can't take it to the bank."

"You can with Greens," Zenas said firmly. "The Gifts define our thinking and our behavior. And part of the Command-Tactician's Gift is to subordinate himself to the Leader."

"Except that you haven't got a Leader," Jonah muttered. He waved a hand vaguely through the air.

"Never mind. I don't know what to think anymore."

"Then start by thinking about the fact that we're all friends here," Ron told him quietly. "Nothing that happens between our peoples can be allowed to change that."

Jonah lowered his eyes. "I suppose," he said.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Laurel said meditatively. "Ironic and sad both. Once all of us were friends, before the disaster in the Great Valley. Now, just when it looks as if we're going to lose everything, our two families have finally found that capability again."

"Thanks to Melantha," Stephanie said.

"And Jordan," Laurel added, reaching over her daughter's shoulder to ruffle Jordan's hair.

" 'The wolf shall lie down with the lamb,' " Roger murmured." 'And a little child shall lead them.' "

"What?" Zenas asked, frowning.

"An old saying about better times to come," Fierenzo told him, looking at Roger. "Misquoted a bit, but the right sentiment."

"Unfortunately, sentiments aren't going to do us any good here," Jonah said.

" 'And a little child shall lead them,' " Ron said thoughtfully. "Interesting that it seems to be the older Grays who are the keenest on restarting the war where it left off. The younger ones, like Jonah and Jordan, seem much more willing to accept the Greens."

"I think it's the same with the Greens," Zenas told him. "Unfortunately, it's those same elders—

among both our peoples—who are in charge."

"But that's not necessarily a permanent situation," Ron pointed out. "If Melantha happened to have been born a Leader instead of a Groundshaker, she'd have automatic authority over Cyril and Aleksander, wouldn't she?"

"At her age, possibly not," Zenas said slowly. "In a couple of years, though, absolutely."

"So what we need is for a Leader to arise among the children," Stephanie said. "I don't suppose there's a chance there might be one lurking out there somewhere?"

"There's always a chance," Zenas said. "By all the usual genetic probabilities, Melantha shouldn't have been born a Groundshaker, either. There could easily be some eleven-year-old future Leader climbing trees right now in Central Park."

"Unfortunately, he's not going to do us any good unless he can grow three years in the next six hours," Fierenzo pointed out. "Let's get back to the problem at hand, shall we? Can we or can we not persuade Torvald or Halfdan to play along with the first part of Nikolos's game long enough for us to figure out the rest of it?"

Ron and Stephanie looked at each other. "I don't know either of them very well," Ron said, a little doubtfully. "But Halfdan's the one who was pushing the hardest for peace. I vote we approach him first."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Stephanie seconded.

"Okay," Fierenzo said, looking around the room. "If there are no objections...?"

Roger took a careful breath. "I have one," he spoke up. "I don't think we should trust Halfdan."

All eyes turned to him. "But he's the one who was working with Cyril toward a peace agreement,"

Laurel pointed out.

"At the cost of your daughter's life," Roger reminded her. "If we're going to take this to anyone, I say we go to Torvald."

"You must be joking," Zenas said with a snort. "Torvald was the one who kidnapped Melantha."

"He told me he did that for her own protection," Roger said, looking at Melantha. "He told me he tried to tell you that, too, Melantha."

Laurel craned her head to look into her daughter's face. "Melantha?"

"He did say that," the girl agreed hesitantly. "But I thought he was just lying to keep me from making trouble."

"You did look more or less comfortable when we found you," Roger pointed out. "You weren't tied up or gagged."

"You're not seriously taking Torvald's side in this, are you?" Zenas demanded. "He's the one who moved into the middle of the Green homestead in MacDougal Alley, forcing out people who'd been there for decades."

"Did he force them out?" Roger asked. "Or did they leave on their own?"

"With a Gray in the neighborhood?" Zenas countered. "None of those people were Warriors. What else could they do?"

"He also grabbed you off the street, remember?" Jonah added.

"So did Nikolos," Roger countered. "So did Halfdan, or at least he tried. Look, I'm not saying Torvald's not a little ham-handed in how he deals with people. But I don't think he necessarily wants to wipe out the Greens, either."

"There's a ringing endorsement," Jonah muttered.

"I think he's an honorable man," Roger said doggedly. "And frankly, I don't know what else to do. I just can't agree with trying to work a deal with someone who was willing to watch Melantha get murdered in cold blood."

"Then you can't trust any of the Greens, either," Laurel said.

"I certainly don't trust them," Fierenzo agreed. "Present company excepted, of course. For all this talk about leadership and Gifts and cooperation, there seems to be a lot of finagling beneath the surface of Green society."

"Because we don't have a Leader," Laurel said tiredly.

"Now we're just going in circles," Ron said. "What exactly—?"

"Hold it," Fierenzo said, lifting a hand for silence as he pulled out his phone and punched it on.

"Yes?... Great." He pulled out his notebook and a pen. "Go."

For a minute the only sound was the scratching of Fierenzo's pen as he scribbled notes. Then, to Roger's amazement, a taut smile began to spread slowly across his face. "Two lanterns, huh?" he said. "How nice. Yeah, I've got it. Thanks."

He punched off and lowered the phone. "Two lanterns?" Roger repeated, frowning.

"That's right," Fierenzo said, continuing to write in his notebook.

"So what does it mean?" Roger persisted, not in the mood for word games.

"It means, my friends," Fierenzo said, an edge of grim satisfaction in his voice, "that we may just have them."

When he got right down to it, Smith had to admit, he really didn't know very much about what was going on. Still, it was more than Chief Fishburn did. "I'll be damned," he said as Smith finished his recitation and bit into a cheeseburger just slightly smaller than his mouth. "So you think these are the guys who kidnapped Detective Fierenzo?"

"Kidnapped or killed," Smith said grimly. "The longer we go without hearing anything, the less likely he's still alive. If he was nosing too close, they wouldn't gain much by keeping him alive."

"Except you get the needle in this state for killing a cop," Fishburn said. "But then, maybe they don't give a damn."

"Maybe not," Smith said, taking another bite of his burger. Suddenly, the food didn't taste as good as it had a minute ago.

"But you do think they still have the Whittier woman?"

"As of the moment they drove me off the road they did," Smith told him. "I suppose they could have dumped her somewhere after that—"

"Chief?" a voice came from the radio at Fishburn's waist.

Fishburn unhooked it and lifted it to his cheek. "Yeah, Adam, what have you got?"

"Nothing on the canvass," Adam reported. "But I pulled a bunch of the charge slips from this morning, and I found a customer who remembers seeing two women leaving that truck: one old, probably sixty or better, the other much younger, probably mid-twenties."