Only this time it wasn't directed at her. It was focused full-strength on Sylvia.

"What's going on?" Fierenzo demanded quietly from beside her.

It took Caroline two tries to find her voice. "Nikolos is trying to persuade her to change her mind," she said. "He's trying to make her order an attack."

She thought she'd been keeping her voice low. Apparently, not low enough. "So much for trusting the Greens," Halfdan said, his voice brittle. "Torvald, this is our chance."

"Our chance for what?" Torvald asked.

"What do you mean, for what?" his brother bit out. "Can't you see they're completely locked up? She can't give any new orders."

"You wouldn't dare," Aleksander rumbled, starting toward him.

"Come closer and I'll break your neck," Halfdan warned. "Roger was right, Torvald—they have overwhelming force. If we don't take those Warriors now, when they're out of position and off balance, we may never have another chance."

"Aleksander?" Nikolos muttered from between clenched teeth.

Silently, Aleksander stepped to Nikolos's side; and as he did, Caroline felt a sudden increase in the pressure on her mind. "They're double-teaming her," she breathed to Fierenzo. She took a step toward them—

"No," Fierenzo said quietly, putting a hand on her arm. "Let them work it out themselves."

"But they're ordering her to start a war."

"I know," the detective said, his voice grim. "But if they can really make her do something like that, I want to find it out now rather than later."

"Torvald," Halfdan said urgently. "There are too many for my men. We have to do it together."

"You can't," Roger said, his voice pleading. "Please."

"What about the guarantee my daughter asked you for?" Torvald countered.

Roger seemed to brace himself. "There are no guarantees in this life," he told the Gray. "No one can make promises for the future. But if your two peoples are at peace when the next Leader arises, what reason would he or she have to want to make war against you?"

Torvald didn't answer, his eyes seemingly focused somewhere beyond him. "Torvald!" Halfdan repeated, all but snarling the word.

And then, Torvald's gaze came back, and he turned to his brother. "You're right," he agreed. "This is our chance." He lifted his hand to his cheek. "This is Torvald," he announced. "All Grays, withdraw immediately and return to your homes. Repeat: all Grays withdraw to your homes. It's over." He lifted his eyebrows at his brother. "Halfdan?" he invited.

Caroline looked back at the frozen tableau of Sylvia, Aleksander, and Nikolos, locked in their silent combat. It all looked just like it had a minute earlier... and yet, through the pressure still flowing past her mind she suddenly sensed something was terribly wrong. Her eyes searched Nikolos's face, found no clue there, and drifted lower to his jacket.

His trassk was gone.

Her eyes darted lower, to his hands. There it was, the copper-colored filigree clutched almost hidden in his right hand.

And even as she caught her breath, his left hand dipped into his right palm and pulled the trassk into the shape of a wide, short-bladed knife. With the blade still half-concealed, she sensed him brace himself—

"No!" Caroline cried. Shaking off Fierenzo's hand, she leaped forward, reaching desperately for Nikolos's arm.

But as she had sensed his preparation, so he had apparently sensed hers. She had barely covered half the distance when he turned on his heel, swinging around to point the knife directly at her.

She gazed at the glittering weapon as she moved toward it, time seeming to slow down as the inevitability of what was about to happen flooded across her mind. It was far too late for her to break off her charge toward him now... and even if she could, she wasn't sure she would want to. All of her time and conversations with Sylvia flashed back to mind: the Command-Tactician's quiet pride in herself and her Warriors, her quick and supple mind as she planned her stratagems, her earnestness when speaking of the safety of her people. In spite of all the lies and deceptions, Caroline had no doubt that Sylvia's acceptance of Velovsky's word meant a genuine willingness to make peace with the Grays.

If she died on Nikolos's blade, that chance would be gone.

Distantly, she was aware of other activity beginning to erupt belatedly around her. She felt Fierenzo's hand as it grabbed at her arm and then slid uselessly off her sleeve. From the corner of her eye she saw Torvald start to stretch out his hand toward Nikolos, but she could see that even if he could get his hammergun ready in time Sylvia's body would be blocking his shot.

And she heard Roger's gasp of fear and horror as he realized he was too far away to do anything at all to help. To do anything except watch her die.

Nikolos's knife was in motion now, still in the dreamlike slow motion created by her enhanced mental state. The pressure on her mind changed subtly as it came up toward her....

And suddenly a hand appeared from nowhere, grabbing Nikolos's wrist and twisting the knife to point away from her. Another hand simultaneously slammed palm-first into her chest, bringing her mad rush to an abrupt and painful halt. Her breath went out in a huff, and for a moment she teetered on the marble floor as she struggled for balance.

Then Roger was at her side, gripping her arms tightly as he pulled her back to stability and safety.

Blinking away sudden tears, she tore her eyes away from the knife and looked up at her rescuer's face.

It was Aleksander, his throat rigid, a stunned and almost terrified disbelief in his eyes as he stared at Nikolos. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice the darkness of a graveyard. "You would kill one of our own?"

"She's a traitor to the Greens," Nikolos snarled, his voice trembling.

"Not to the Greens," Caroline corrected, fighting to get air back into her lungs. "Only to you."

"And to a needless war," Sylvia spoke up, her voice calm and steady, with no sign of the mental battle she'd just gone through. "I have heard the Leader's words. The Warriors will stand down."

Reaching over, she deftly wrenched the knife from Nikolos's hand, collapsed it back into copper filigree, and handed it to Cyril.

"Then you condemn us all to death," Nikolos accused.

"Do I?" Sylvia looked at Torvald. "One Gray leader has already shown himself willing to try the path of peace."

"Halfdan?" Torvald prompted, and ominous edge to his voice.

For a moment Halfdan stood motionless, his throat tight, his scar standing out whitely against the redness in his cheeks. Then, with a frustrated hiss, he lifted his hand. "This is Halfdan," he growled.

"All Grays, go home.... Yes, Bergan, that means you and Ingvar, too.... Just go home." He waited for acknowledgment, then dropped his hand back to slap against his side.

Sylvia turned back to Caroline. "Thank you," she said.

Caroline licked her lips. "Thank you," she murmured back.

"Okay," Roger breathed, and Caroline could hear him struggling to get his mind back on track again.

"Okay. Then there's just one more thing." He looked past Caroline at the S.W.A.T. cops still lined up at the far end of the Winter Garden. "Sylvia, is it possible for you to give them just enough of a Shriek to scramble their perception for a couple of seconds, but without startling them enough that they'll start shooting?"

"It's possible, yes," she said. "You want it now?"

"Please."

She nodded. "Everyone, brace yourselves." Crossing to the far end of the circular platform, she opened her mouth and gave out a sound that sounded like a prairie dog yip. Caroline jerked in spite of the warning—

The three closest palm trees seemed to bulge outward; and suddenly there were three figures walking across the marble floor toward them: a man and two women, one of the women noticeably shorter than the other. Caroline blinked, forcing her eyes back to focus; and to her surprise and delight, she saw that the shorter woman was Melantha. "Melantha!" she gasped, crossing the platform and hurrying down the steps toward the girl. Melantha gave a delighted squeak of her own and broke into a jog.