Cordy brought a mug over. He said, "Swan, this keeps on, we're going to have to hire somebody to help me brew. We're going to be tapped out in a couple days."

"Why worry? How long can it last? Those priest characters are starting to smolder now. They're going to start looking for some excuse to shut us down. Worry about finding another racket as sweet, not about making more beer faster. What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"You got a grim look all of a sudden."

"The blackbird of doom just walked in the front door."

Willow twisted so he could see that end of the room. Sure enough, Blade had come home. Tall, lean, ebony, head shaved to a polish, muscles rippling with the slightest movement, he looked like some kind of gleaming statue. He looked around without approval. Then he strode to Willow's table, took a seat. The girls gave him the eye. He was as exotic as Willow Swan.

"Come to collect your share and tell us how lousy we are, corrupting these children?" Willow asked.

Blade shook his head. "That old spook Smoke's having dreams again. The Woman wants you."

"Shit." Swan dropped his feet to the floor. Here was the fly in the ointment. The Woman wouldn't leave them alone. "What is it this time? What's he doing? Hemp?"

"He's a wizard. He don't need to do nothing to get obnoxious."

"Shit," Swan said again. "What do you think, we just do a fade-out here? Sell the rest of Cordy's rat piss and head back up the river?"

A big, slow grin spread across Blade's face. "Too late, boy. You been chosen. You can't run fast enough. That Smoke, he might be a joke if he was to open shop up where you came from, but around here he's the bad boss spook pusher. You try to head out, you're going to find your toes tied in knots."