He lunged, pressed Else back a step, fled through the doorway. Else thought better of charging into whatever awaited him out there. It was nighttime now. And a major sorcerer was afoot

He found another quarrel for the Lucidian weapon, made sure his letters were safely stowed inside his shirt, then extinguished the one lamp burning and opened the leaded-glass stern light

He clambered outside, grabbed a mooring line and spidered down to the quay. He was crouched behind a big wooden bollard, catching his breath, when the wounded Brother clumping down the gangway looked over his shoulder.

Why had he not used his sorcery?

Else loosed his second bolt.

He heard it strike but it did not hamper the man's flight. Maybe he was wearing something under his Brotherhood clothing.

THE DREANGEREAN AGENT WHO ACCEPTED ELSE INTO HIS SHOP at an impolite hour was a dwarf, a twisted little Devedian scarcely four feet high. He was not pleased. "I knew this day would come. I tried to pretend it wouldn't. I told myself it would just be a few pieces of silver now and then in exchange for the occasional letter. But this is what it was all about isn't it?"

Else examined his surroundings by the weak light of the tiny lamp the dwarf carried. The place was a miniscule silversmith's shop. The dwarf's clients would be mostly Devedian. Almost everything Else saw looked like Devedian religious paraphernalia. Which seemed likely, the shop being located in the heart of Sonsa's Devedian quarter. "Yes. You're right. This is what you've waited for. What you've been paid to wait for. I need to disappear. And to stay disappeared. I have a letter for you from al-Qarn."

The dwarf's name was Gledius Stewpo. "That's how they say it here and that's good enough to get by." Stewpo might not be pleased about developments but he was prepared to deal with them. He had a secret room underneath his house. It pretended to be a hidden workshop, in case somebody stumbled in. A man could hide there in relative comfort. "They won't find you here without using some heavyweight sorcery."

Stewpo had several ticks that Else found distracting. First, his head was in constant motion, nodding or shaking. And he ended every other sentence with a strained laugh, as though he was enjoying a joke he had just told himself.

Else did not find a single thing the dwarf said even vaguely amusing.

Worse, when the dwarf sat down, he rocked. Forward and back, forward and back, quickly and incessantly. And he was unaware of his ticks.

Stewpo read the letter from al-Qarn. "All right. Here we go. I'm ready to help any way that I can."

Else told him everything. Anything less seemed pointless. "I rigged Adrano's remains so it would look like it was me that got blown apart, then I went through everybody's stuff and took whatever might come in handy."

"That's good. What about the Brotherhood assassin who got away?"

"I don't know if that's what he really was. I know they're not rational people. But they must realize that murdering people like that ship's master, after all he did to help, is counterproductive. People don't pitch in if you kill them for their trouble."

"I was thinking more about what became of him."

"He got away."

"And never smacked you around with any sorcery?"

"That's right"

"They snookered you. The one you assumed was the servant was the sorcerer. The other one was his bodyguard and assistant."

"You could be right. How safe are we from the night here?"

"Quite. This country was civilized before the Old Brothen Empire rose up. The spirits have been winnowed a thousand times. Only the benign ones are still around. The malignant ones have all been driven away or bound into stones and trees and streams. There isn't much left that a sorcerer can use. Sonsans want it that way. They want a world shaped by the laws of economics, not those of pain and chaos."

"The laws of chaos?"

"Even disorder is orderly if you look close enough."

"Suppose this sorcerer brought his own spirits?"

The dwarf had wild white hair not well acquainted with a comb. He ran his fingers through that when not indulging another tick. "That's a possibility. But you said he's from the Special Office of the Brotherhood of War. Those people want to end the tyranny of the night. They don't drag it around."

"Will they employ the tools of evil in order to conquer evil?" A common human failing, even in the Realm of Peace.

"They'd say not. Whatever, they won't find you. If you stay in this room. Rest. In the morning I'll find out what they're saying in the streets."

"Don't change your routine. And I really could use a snack. I haven't eaten since this morning."

"I could be your grandfather, Sha-lug. Don't teach me my craft."

"I wasn't… I see."

GLEDIUS STEWPO BROUGHT SUPPER NEXT EVENING. "SHA-LUG, you don't want to be out there now. I assume you didn't lie to me. Yet your story is nothing like what the Brotherhood says happened. They say they were chasing a foreigner who wants to spy on the Church."

"Really? That sounds a little silly. Do they say who? Or why?"

"No. Around here nobody believes anything the Brothers say, anyway. Unless you're a Blue and beholden to the Fermi."

"So there's a lot of excitement. And Color politics is trying to take it over?"

"There're other theories out there. The point is, you don't want to be seen. Having blond hair will get you dragged in for questioning, guaranteed."

Else nodded. Typical luck. All he was supposed to do in Sonsa was get off the boat and go somewhere else.

"If you hadn't interrogated Vivia Infant's master you could've gotten away without anybody suspecting anything. But you tried to kill a member of the Brotherhood."

Else grunted. "I wasn't thinking strategically. Tactically, I thought I needed to find out what was going on."

"You're in luck. They don't know who they're looking for. But they are looking hard. Word from inside is, the wizard is in a tizzy because nobody should have lived through that explosion."

"Didn't you tell me that Sonsa is supernaturally pacified?"

"Obviously, I was jabbering out the wrong orifice."

"What do Sonsans think?"

The dwarf chuckled. "I don't know many people who'd be upset if a few Brothers from the local barracks got themselves dead. They don't have much power here, and little influence except with the Fermi, but they do make themselves thoroughly obnoxious to Devedians and Dainschaus."

"Do they have the kind of power that lets them grab people off the streets? Without Sonsa blowing up?"

"The Durandanti and Scoviletti don't want to alienate them. Because then the Brotherhood might line up with the other family."

"And the Brotherhood squeezes every ounce of advantage out of that, right?"

"Of course. They're not stupid. They don't understand how much they're disliked, though."

"Uhm?"

"They're too powerful. But they're powerful only because the situation here is repeated in every city in Firaldia. There's no unifying national nobility. There's just the Church. And the Empire meddling from outside. In Brothe there are five families dancing the power dance, with the Patriarchy itself the big prize. Without the Brotherhood of War behind him, particularly the Special Office, Sublime never would've gotten elected. He's beholden to them. His aggressive policies are their policies. I've kept telling al-Qarn. But al-Qarn won't listen."

"Gordimer is a great warrior. But as a ruler and planner he has shortcomings. Unfortunately, if Dreanger's fortunes were left to Kaif Karim Kaseem al-Bakr, we'd all do nothing but say prayers while crusaders harvest us like hay. You know Sonsa. How long before the novelty wears off?"