Just this morning, he'd awakened to an armful of pillow.

Just this morning, he'd had breakfast with a man who, if there was any justice in the universe, was dead now. This morning, Ganfrion had been alive.

So had he.

Now he wasn't altogether sure.

Temorii, Ganfrion . . . likely Thyerri was dead, as well, since Mother had taken his shape there in Khoratum.

They'd all died helping him escape, or just because they'd known him. Trusted him. Mother had saved him so easily.

Why couldn't she have saved them as well?

Because they couldn't do this? Couldn't sit in the open with their brothers while demigods used them for target practice? Couldn't sit beneath a sky flaming with blues and greens and purples, so that Mother could be free?

He groaned, knowing sleep was destined to elude him, and pulled himself up to sit with his shoulder to a moss- covered boulder. Someday, as the new node formed deep within the earthperhaps as early as tomorrow morning that moss would die, and nothing would grow in its place but roses.

And no one could tell him why.

He'd stay awake, in case the moss died tonight. So some- one would note its passing.

He wished he could cry: the tension-relieving tears which had come so easily a few weeks ago had been burned from him again. At the time, he'd thought he would be well rid of them. Now, like so much else, he wasn't certain the convenience was worth the price.

He couldn't blame Mother. Couldn't ask human compas- sion from any creature so utterly inhuman. Mother played at human actions and human emotions and human reason, but all she'd really wanted was a far more basic drive. Free- dom. Recognition as an adult.

Never mind she reminded him of Nikki at times. Perhaps he'd tell her that. Someday.

He couldn't blame Mother. He had trusted too much in Mother to save them. He'd been stupid. Set himself as a target. And in trusting Mother, had killed everything that made him alive.

At least Temorii had died on her beloved rings. At least she'd died happy.

Perhaps one day, he'd believe that.

But neither could he dwell on his personal loss. There'd be much to repair, in the wake of tonight's events. He'd return to Khoratum, if Mother would let him, in her newly achieved independence. He'd have to make the effort. Of them all, she was most likely to answer his call, and there was a whole city up there to account for.

And two bodies, possibly three, who deserved proper immersions.

"Rhomandi?" a low voice called, and he ignored it. Some of the men had begun passing spirits around, toasting the strange and wonderful spectacle.

He wanted none of it.

And that same voice, lower still, turning away. "Dammit, Suds. You'd better be asleep."

And a flash of silver flickered from the shadow's left hand: a ring lodged halfway down the smallest finger.

"Gan . . ." Mikhyel's voice caught. He tried again. "Gan- frion? Is that"

"There you are." Ganfrion's large body eclipsed a fair portion of the sky.

Mikhyel scrambled to his feet to grasp the monster hand and found himself jerked into a smothering embrace, then shoved back.

"That brother of yours said I'd find you somewhere over here. Said you damnwell weren't asleep and that he wished you would get that way fast, though how he knew that"

"Never mind. How did you get . . . ?" But he knew better than to ask that question. There was only one way Ganfrion could have gotten this far from Khoratum, this fast, and the exhaustion in his voice told a story of its own. Mikhyel clasped the big hand again and said, "Never mind that ei- ther. You can explain in the morning. Go get some sleep.

Get drunk, if you like. Rakshi knows, you've earned it."

But Ganfrion retained his grip on his hand. "Just one more thing. Suds."

"Gan, please. I'm very tired."

"I think you can handle this."

"All right. I"

"Owe me? Damn right you do. Heard tell, it was your birthday. Brought you a present."

"Look, Crypt-bait, I don't want"

Cold metal slipped over their clasped hands to encircle Mikhyel's wrist, a feel and weight burned forever into his memory. He caught it with his other hand, as Ganfrion released him at last.

And the hot tears filled his eyes, reminding him why he was glad they'd left him. He controlled them fiercely, only to fight them once again when he raised the cold silver to his lips.

He'd find out tomorrow how the radical dancer's coronet had come to be in Ganfrion's hands. Find out what news he had of Khoratumand of Temorii's body. For tonight what was left of ithe wanted, finally, to sleep.

He pressed Ganfrion's upper arm and turned away.

"For the love of my mother's blessed womb. Suds, wake up'."

And past the exhaustion lurked laughter and frustration.

Mikhyel turned, glared at the shadow-guard. "What el"

And suddenly, the shadow budded. And a scent of rasp- berries and cinnamon . . . with a hint of clove, filled his head.

{Hello, Khy.}