Shadowplay

"You certainly are an impertinent man," Merola

"I speak strangely because I am no man," he told her. "Nor am I one of the Qar-not anymore, not after I lived so long as one of your kind, for¬getting I was anything else. I am unique, I think-no longer one or the other."

Utta was uncomfortably aware of shapes appearing from the shadows and falling silently into place behind them like an army of cats. She looked back. There were at least three dozen of the tall, slender warriors, eyes gleaming in the depths of their hoods and helmets. Chilled, heart speeding, she said nothing. If Merola

The duchess certainly seemed to be doing her best to remain ignorant. "Are you not shamed to speak so?" she asked their odd guide. "I must say

I do not think very highly ol someone who is such thin milk as to say, 'I am not one or the other'-especially when our two peoples are at war!"

"If you cut out the gills of a fish, Duchess, would you then blame him when he said he did not belong in the water? And yet, he still would not be a man, either." As they reached the far end of the foggy square their guide stopped and raised his hand. "We are here."

Before them lay the bulky stone towers of the Council House where the city's leaders had met, a second seat of power in Southmarch that had on occasion, during times of weak rulers and strong councils, set itself on a nearly equal footing with the throne itself. Its square central tower still loomed above the surrounding buildings, a blocky shape like the chimney of some immense, underground mansion, but the rest of the ancient Coun¬cil House looked different. It took Utta a moment to realize that what had softened its contours and shadowed its facade was a lattice of woody, dark vines that shrouded most of the building. The vines had not been there the last time she had been in Blossom Market Square, she was certain, but they looked like the product of centuries.

The three dozen or so Qar walking silently behind them had now grown to hundreds, a true army, which filled the square on either side of them, a forest of dimly glittering eyes and pale, hostile faces. Some did not even come close to resembling mortal men. Utta made the sign of the Three and fought against an urge to pull away from their guide and run. She turned to whisper something to the duchess, but she could see by Merola

More Qar stepped out in front of them, leaving only a narrow aisle be¬tween their ranks, leading to the steps of the Council House.

Zoria, forgive me for my selfish thoughts and my pride. Utta put her head down, then lifted it as proudly as she could, like a prisoner going to the gal¬lows. They climbed the wide stairs behind the man who did not know what he was.

It took a moment for her eyes to make sense of the gloom inside the main hall, and when she did she was surprised to see how many of the Twi¬light folk were here, too: they truly were quiet as cats, these Qar, as they seemed to call themselves. In fact, it was almost exactly like disturbing some congregation of alley-lurkers: the faces swung up, oddly shining eyes fixed on the newcomers, but the faces showed nothing. Some of them were so

disturbing to look at that she could not boat to see them for more than an instant. When one of them curled a lip and snarled at her, showing teeth sharp as needles, Utta had to stop, unable to walk for fear she would slum-ble and fall.

"Just a little farther," said Kayyin kindly, taking her arm again."She waits right there-can you see her? She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Utta let herself be led forward to the empty center of the room, which contained only one unprepossessing chair and two figures, one sitting, one standing. The one standing behind the chair was female, dressed in plain robes, but her eyes gleamed like fogged mirrors.

The woman in the chair was less obviously unusual, except for her size. She appeared to be as tall as a good-sized man, although achingly thin, but the spikiness of her dark, unreflecting armor made it hard to gauge any¬thing to a certainty. She had the single most unfeeling face Utta had ever seen, one that made the famously stern statue of Kernios in Market Square seem like a child's favorite uncle. Her high, slitted eyes and her wide, pale-lipped mouth might have been carved from stone. Utta felt her legs begin to tremble again. What had the odd man called her-Death's kinswoman? Merciful Zoria and all the gods of heaven, she looks like Death iself!

Merola

"This is Duchess Merola

The woman in black armor looked slowly from Merola

"Hold a moment!" Merola

Yasammez stared at her, a black, unreadable stare. "But I am no mother," the fairy woman said. "Not anymore. What seek you?"

"My child. My son. I am told he was taken by the Twilight… by the Qar. Your people. I wish to know what happened to him." She gained strength as she spoke. Utta could not help admiring her: whatever her other foibles, Merola

"Do you hear?" said Kayyin suddenly. "She is appealing to you as one woman to another. As one parent to another." There was something oddly barbed in his tone. "Surely you will not harden your heart to her-will you, Mother?"

Yasammez shot him a look of venom unlike anything Utta had ever seen. If it had been directed at her, she felt sure she would have shriveled and burned like a dry leaf fallen into a fire. A stream of the sharp-edged yet strangely fluid speech rushed out of the woman in the black armor. Kayyin smiled, but it was the miserable smile of someone who had, with great ef¬fort, cut off his own nose to spite his face.

Death's kinswoman swiveled around to stare at Utta and Merola