"Go, snakes," she crooned, "go meet your brothers in the palace of the prince.Meet and eat them, then defeat the peace between the Beysib and her Rankan host.And find those children, both, and bite them with the poison of your fangs, sothat death beats down on midnight wings and Niko will be forced to come to me...to me to save them." Almost, she didn't get those last words out, because achuckle rose to block the speech's end-especially the word "save."

For as she'd looked into the bowl she'd seen a vision, then another. First she'dseen riders, and a boat with a lion rampant on its prow: one rider was herancient enemy, Tempus, called the Sleepless One, avatar of godly mischief;another was Jihan, a more potent enemy. Froth Daughter, princess of the endlesssea, a copper-colored nymph of matchless passion, a sprite with all the strengthof moon and tides between her knees; another was Critias, Strat's partner andbetter half, the coldest and boldest of the Stepsons, and the only man among thelot of them who didn't need more-than mortal help to do his job. And on theboat, now seeming like a wedding gift, all wrapped in gilt and gloriouslycolored sails as it drew nearer, was a man she'd helped become a king, one whoowed an unequivocal debt to Death's Queen-Theron, Emperor of Ranke, who was soanxious to pay Roxane's price he was trekking to the empire's anus to bow hisknee.

Oh, yes, she thought then. Trouble, let it come. For Roxane, once the visionswere cleared from the salted water of her bowl by an impatient, dusky hand, hadan idea-a thought, an inspiration, a vengeful task to undertake fitting to allthe harm past and present denizens of Sanctuary had done her: She'd seen theerror of her ways, and now she'd seen a new solution. She'd given up too muchfor Nikodemos, who'd turned on her and spumed her. She'd trade this batch ofhapless souls to get back what she'd so foolishly bargained away.