Crawney, not to be left out, took Mayliss.

* * *

They watched pink shadows run as the globe pulsed.

Two of them.

Alone together.

The insider had brought Golden Boy back at last, and the blackskulls who’d been outside had taken him. Mayliss had left too, packing all her things in silence. Now there was Hairy Hal and Starlady.

She sat there, calm, cold, and watched him and the shadows. This time Hal was crying.

“I can’t, Janey,” he said, over and over, in a broken voice. “I can’t. He chills me, Starlady, and I’ve seen him with his stick. The no-knife, yes, it’s a better weapon, quicker, cleaner. But him, the Marquis, he’s too good. Probly Hairy Hal could’ve taken him, he thought he could’ve, one on one, no-knife against stingstick. No chance, though. An’ now, Hal’s all crottled. Marquis’ll never face him alone anyhow.”

“You’re Hairy Hal,” Janey said evenly. “If he could take Marquis once, you can take him now. You can’t leave Golden Boy with him. You can’t. I love Golden Boy.”

Hal looked up, wincing. “Hey, Starlady,” he said. “I’m spinning you straight. You want Hal cold?”

“If you won’t do anything,” she said. “Yes.”

He shrugged. “I hum to you, Janey,” he said suddenly, staring at her with something that was almost fear.

“Wonderful. But you’ll never see me again.” She stood up. “Give me your no-knife, Hal. If you won’t try, I will.”

“They’ll kill you, Starlady, or worse. Root down an’ listen. You won’t even find the Marquis.”

“Yes I will. And he’ll face me one on one, too. You told me how, Hal. The Marquis is loud, remember? Well, me too. I’ll stand in the middle of the Silver Plaza and shout for him until he comes. He can hardly have his blackskulls gang up on me then. If he did, who’d ever get chilled again? Will you give me the no-knife?”