So she thought to dance around the Nisi ex-slave, freed by her but not free ofher. She'd only started her mesmerizing when a sanguine hand reached out andgrasped her wrist.

Impertinent. This one soon would need an object lesson. She swallowed his willwith a stare and let him see he couldn't even blink without her say-so. Shewhispered, "Yes? Your business, please."

And Haught, so pretty, so fiery underneath his slave's face, said, "I thoughtyou'd want a warning. His boyfriend's coming. ..." Haught's chin juttedMazeward. "What use he'll be once Crit's come hence, you might not like. So ifyou want, I could-"

There was murder in the slavebait's eyes. Murder sure of itself and offeredteasingly, a sexual ploy, a sensuous violence.

She denied it, not telling Haught that Strat was so much hers that Crit couldn'tget between them... because she wasn't sure. But she was sure that Straton'sleftside leader, Critias, could not be murdered by one of hers. Not ever. Notand allow Ischade to keep what she had now-subtle power over more factions thanany other had, even those who dwelled in the winter palace and looked to gods toaid them.

The dusky wraith that was Ischade said a second time, "I don't want, Haught. Inever want. You want. I have. And I have need of both Stepsons-of Straton andhis... friend. Go back uptown, see Moria, talk to Vis; we'll have a party forreturning heroes tomorrow evening-in the uptown house. Wherever Crit is, Tempusis as well. Find the Band's best and invite them all. We'll play a differentgame this season; you tread carefully, do you hear?"

Haught, motionless and unblinking till she loosed him. sought the door with theslightest inclination of his head and the most refined swirl of his cloak.

Trouble, that one, by and by.

But in the meantime, if she must fight for Straton, would she? She didn't know.