crisis, and the rightful heir to the throne is right here in town. What's more,those 'fish-eyed' Beysib you scorn have made us the gateway to a new land ...and a rich land at that. Sanctuary is becoming a focal point in history, not aforgotten little backwater town, and powerful forces are going to be set inmotion to control it, if they haven't been mobilized already. We need to unifywhat strength we have, not erode it away in petty local squabbles that leave usdrained and ripe for the picking."

"You're becoming quite a tactician, old one," Jubal said thoughtfully. "Whyhaven't you said this to anyone else?"

"Who would listen?" Hakiem snorted. "I'm still the old storyteller who madegood. I may have the ear of the Beysa, and through her the Prince, but theydon't control the streets. That's your arena, and you're busy using what poweryou have to stir up trouble."

"I listen to you," the ex-crimelord said firmly. "What you say gives me muchfood for thought. Perhaps I have been shortsighted."

"At least we're headed into winter. The rainy season should cool things off...and maybe give you enough time to reflect on your course of action."

"Don't count on it," Jubal sighed. "I was going to warn you to stay away from myold mansion. I have information that the Stepsons are on their way back intotown ... the original ones, not the mockeries who took their place."

Hakiem closed his eyes as if in pain.

"The Stepsons," he repeated softly. "As if Sanctuary didn't have enough troublealready."

"Who knows?" Jubal shrugged. "Maybe they'll restore that order you long for. Ifnot, I'm afraid there'll be a new meaning for 'the dead of winter'."

HELL TO PAY Janet Morris

On the first day of winter-a sodden, sullen dawn of the sort only Sanctuary's