How long since the Tishaarans had crossed into the courtyard? Two hours? Six? Twelve? Delaney cursed the realmlands again for their ignorance of the simple technology of watch-making, and the Ordunese for neglecting to provide public clocks. Her own watch had been confiscated in the Rushbrook prison and it had been one of her sorest losses. Time had been a constant in her life, the matrix which held together existence. When she could not order her day by a clock, the hours dispersed randomly like liquid in a vacuum and then everything flew out of control. Waiting without any way to measure the passing of time was unbearable.

This expedition had started out so full of promise. She had hoped to return to high civilization, to a place of familiarity, and to find Ehiloru. Now those hopes had been all but extinguished. The trip had yielded nothing but misery, treachery, danger, and, in Morp, a painful lesson in humility.

Time crawled along, the only evidence being the sun that began to drop into the west, as shewaited by the bridge that led to the Citadel courtyard. She could do nothing but sit, fidgeting and drumming her fingers on the railing overlooking the fountain stream. As evening fell, she struck such a posture of distress that an elderly gentleman approached and asked if she was well. Alarmed at having attracted such attention, she stammered something about having eaten too much lunch.

Gathering her full Ordunese skirts, she fled from the bridge, her arms flapping in the overly large blouse. Perhaps if she kept moving, she could avoid any more prying old codgers. Fearing the worst for her friends, she took a slow walk around one of the gardens, always within sight of the courtyard of the Citadel, breathing deeply and smiling as if she were enjoying a walk in the spring air. But she had no business there or anywhere near the Citadel. Unequal to the task of manufacturing more bogus stories to curious passersby, she had no choice but to return to the bridge, to watch from afar.

Please, Shaska, come out! Windglow, Hummer, come on!

After another anxious stretch of eternity, the door flung finally open. Delaney jumped up and wanted to shout for joy. Even if they were all swallowed up by the forces of darkness in the next few minutes, at least the unbearable wait was over! She resolved that if she lived through this day, she would never let them, or anyone else, leave her alone again except that she request it.

But it was not Shaska, Windglow, or Hummer who burst from the the arch. Instead, it was a grayish little creature, running in that strange limp-armed gait she had seen in Morp. Heedless of life and limb, the pathetic thing slammed into a pillar and tripped on a flight of stairs, tumbling head over heels and landing at the bottom with an excruciating thud. It knocked over a row of vases and then blundered into a bystander, who pushed it away roughly. Five soldiers in Ordunese uniform hustled after it, but they were thwarted by the curiosity-seekers who gathered around to see a famously ridiculous denizen of Morp in action.

Now! They’re all distracted. It’s the perfect time to make a break for it. Come on guys! Please! She clasped her hands in prayer. For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow in the doorway, and her heart jumped. But the shadow vanished quickly and did not reappear.

Hearing the shouts, punctuated with peels of laughter, a curious crowd began to form in the courtyard. Their resentment of authority roused them from passive indifference to the same mood of spiteful mischief toward the vastly outnumbered soldiers that Delaney had seen the day before. They impeded, openly jostled and tripped the soldiers, who responded with their usual absence of restraint. Gradually, the ruckus shifted away from the courtyard and down the hill, leaving Delaney virtually alone in the shadows outside the Citadel.

There she loitered until well past dark, before withdrawing again onto the paths beyond the bridge. From the shadow of an apple tree at the far edge of the garden, long after hope had abandoned her, she kept up her agonizing vigil.

No one came.

For two days, she hovered out of sight around the edges of the Citadel courtyard, like a beggar outside a locked banquet hall, or a newly orphaned cub lingering near the corpse of her mother. Paralyzed with fear at being left to fend for herself, not only in a strange city but in a strange world, she could hardly think, much less make up a plan.

At last she gave up. She made her way back down the hill and veered into a rutted mud lane that took her to the city’s north side. She refused to speculate as to the fate of her companions--other than it was bad. In that respect, the colossal stone fortress was a merciful black box, best left unopened. Dead, captured, or lost in some time warp, it did not matter. Her transworld experiences had made Delaney a reluctant expert at cutting ties to the past. Two days was all it took to assign Shaska, Windglow, and Hummer to the murky pool of bygone times. They were gone and that was it. Knowing that an object was more easily lost in a junkyard than on a clean parlor floor, she headed for the seediest squalor she could find--the more destitute the better. As much as it galled her to accept such a fate, she was in survival mode now.

She managed to survive by attaching herself to the edges of large crowds during the day, and sleeping for brief stretches at night in the shelter of dark and narrow alleys. Early on, she vomited on the stench from the nearby piles of uncollected trash. By the end of the second daym she suspected others were gagging on her ripe aroma. By comparison, the body odor of the unwashed, ill-mannered street idlers who emerged from their houses at midmorning served as an air freshener.

Beyond hiding, staying constantly on the move, stealing crusts of bread and trying to get an occasional wash in the river, she could hardly guess at her next move. Only three alternatives came to mind. The first was near at hand but had little else to commend it: she could inquire after her friends at the Citadel. That would be certainly signing her own death warrant, even if by some miracle the Tishaarans were still alive.

The other two possibilities were worse than remote: return to the safe haven of Tishaara, or try to hook up with Roland and Berch in the Fourth Realm. Even if she could escape a walled city that had only four tightly patrolled entrances, even if she could get her hands on a map and find adequate provisions, she saw no hope of reaching either on her own. And where would she find a guide? Whom could she even trust?

She needed sleep desperately, to the point where she very nearly fell asleep leaning against a split rail fence. As she forced her eyes open, she spied a small spider crawling along a paint-chipped window ledge toward her hand. Not even her triumph over the monstrous perils of the Third Realm had immunized Delaney from her most basic fears. Tiny, black spiders could still scare her spitless. Although she stifled the scream almost as soon as she let it out, a toothless woman strolling past pointed and giggled at her.

She knew then that it was futile. Even if she could find a warm place to sleep, and enough to eat, she could not blend in among the poor, faceless masses for much longer. From her fear of spiders to her habit of cutting every last bit of fat off her meat to her aversion to uncombed hair and dirt in the fingernails, she would give herself away soon, if she had not already done so.

A shout went up from one of the main streets leading away from the Citadel. Delaney heard laughter and saw people running. She joined the stream of traffic, hoping that whatever drew the crowd had nothing to do with the Tishaarans, or any scene of public execution.

A mob had formed a large ring. People were shouting, cheering, and laughing as if at a carnival. Good, I could do with a little entertainment.

Standing on tiptoes on the outskirts of the ring, Delaney caught a glimpse of the Morp flat on its back in the middle of the circle, gray and cheerless as a November sky. No doubt, it was the same Morp she had seen careening around the courtyard.

Like most realmlanders, Morps never strayed from their home realm if they could help it. But, too often, they could not help it. Poor instincts and lack of common sense caused the occasional First Realmer to wander from the gray lands and become too disoriented to find its way home. On such occasions, the Morp, with its comic appearance and hapless blundering, provided a novel and cruel source of entertainment to Second Realmers. Except for a small but active group that advocated humane treatment for Morps, even the supposedly enlightened citizens of Orduna took pleasure in testing the limits of the First Realmers' simplicity. In former times, the teaser was rather light-hearted but in recent times had become brutal.

Five mean-spirited men strutted within the circle that enclosed the Morp. With booming, self important voices, they taunted the poor creature as they shoved it toward the outer ring of spectators. There the Ordunese took turns shoving it, tripping it, and spinning it in circles. The nastier spectators kicked at their victim when it was down and even jabbed it with long pins. When the Morp wriggled free from its tormentors, it ran in the peculiar Morp fashion, with arms stiffly held at its side. This produced howls of mirth, followed by even louder roars of laughter as the Morp crashed into the opposite side of the ring, where more abuse greeted it. Most of the crowd were doubled over with laughter, blotched faces fighting back tears of malicious glee.

Delaney had never seen anything so viscious in her whole life. “Sadistic pigs!” she muttered.

The laughter was so loud that it drowned out her comments, and no one paid attention to her. But as the spectacle continued, righteous rage burned away all the caution and inhibition that remained in her sleep-deprived body. Shaking with fury, she waded into the crowd. Though small, and fairly frail by realmland standards, she elbowed past the startled revelers in her path and she shoved aside men twice her size--knifing through the crowd like a flimsy straw driven by a tornado. Several lashed back at her. They pushed her roughly to the ground inside the circle. A gob of spit trickled down her

neck.

“Get the floozy out of here!”

“Who does she think she is, anyway?”

“You’ve had too much to drink, you old sow!”

Her wrath vaporized even the worst of insults. She struggled to her feet and ran to where the Morp lay gasping and blinking back tears in the wake a particularly savage pummeling. The collar and sleeves of its white shirt were soaked in gray blood that pooled from numerous small wounds.

Defying the catcalls of the crowd and fending off the shower of pebbles from small children, she dabbed at the dirty cuts on its forehead and arms. Recovering from their surprise at her boldness, the men in charge of the Morp-bashing rudely pulled her off their victim. Still beside herself with hatred for the Ordunese, she bit and scratched like a rabid mink. She knocked the breath out of one of them with with a swift knee to the groin.

This seemed to satisfy the crowd’s thirst for violence. By that one gesture, Delaney transformed herself from a priggish scold and public nuisance to the underdog darling of the masses. They laughed heartily at the brute’s discomfort and applauded Delaney’s scrappy show of spirit.

“There was a proper stroke, girly!”

“Well placed, lassy! Give him another!”

Delaney grabbed the Morp’s hand and pulled it out of the circle. Although a few boys continued to pelt her with garbage and several of the throng stuck out their feet to trip the Morp as it passed, most made way for them. A few even applauded her spunk.

But as the crowd began to disperse, the brute whom Delaney had nearly neutered staggered after her. He aimed a vicious kick at the back of her leg.

With a scream, Delaney collapsed and the Morp tumbled on top of her.

“Here now! No rutting in the street,” guffawed the thug.

“Show some decency!” shouted another. “Wait until you’re indoors before you take your lover, you little hussy!”

Delaney refused to acknowledge the pain, and was well past caring about humiliation. Again taking the Morp by the wrist, she picked herself up and limped off. Having acted purely on temper, she had no thought as to what to do next or where she might go. In an instant, she knew full well that she had done the very thing that she had to avoid at all costs--she had drawn attention to herself. The Ordunese guard would be on her in a flash.

She felt trapped back in the nightmare that had nearly swallowed her in the Rushbrook dungeon. Hopelessly, she fled, knowing that she could no more outdistance her torment than a burning body can outrun flames that consume it.

Eventually she found herself mercifully alone with the Morp in a heavily shaded residential cul de sac near the river. Neat, orderly houses flanked the cobblestones; it seemed a stubborn bastion of decency against the urban decay. She had no idea how she had gotten there, how far she had walked, who had seen her, or what route she had taken. Nor could she count the times she fought off the impulse to find some means to take her life and destroy this recurring nightmare of the realms. She was aware of nothing except that she was sitting against a high picket fence, sobbing and panting, with a peculiar, badly beaten, grayish creature gazing woefully up at her. She hallucinated that her soul was peeling loose from her body, leaving an empty shell hanging upon the fence like a discarded towel.

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When the traitor Dhayelle emerged from the phantasm and advanced toward her, she was so spent, both emotionally and physically, that she registered neither surprise nor fear. She retained just enough feeling to notice the chill as her enemy’s shadow cut off the sun’s warm rays.

The nightmare turned even more surreal as Dhayelle dropped to her knees by the seated Delaney and enfolded her in a tearful embrace. “My poor, sweet child, are you all right?”

Delaney felt drawn to her warmth, wanted to break down and release the tide of frustration and terror. She wanted to cry worse than she had wanted anything in her life. But not in the arms of the monster who had betrayed her to the enemy. Delaney shivered with revulsion at her touch. Too spent to put up a fight, she curled up, and pulled her elbows close to her ribs.

Dhayelle pulled her away from the Morp and led her to a shanty behind an abandoned smith shop. “We’re safe for the moment in here, honey. Now, I know you won’t trust me after what I’ve done. But please listen to me.”

Delaney stared glassily at her, wishing she had the energy to despise this loathsome women.

“Are you listening to me?” Dhayelle demanded.

She had to ask twice more before Delaney, moved by some lingering ember of curiosity, ventured to chllenge the eyes of the traitor. What kind of lies could such a person spew after being caught red-handed in betrayal? Was this woman so arrogant that she thought she scould possibly come up with a story that would make Delaney doubt what she already knew of her? Was she so skilled in the dark arts of deception that she could pull it off?

“That’s better,” said Dhayelle. “Listen, all I can do is tell you my side of things. You can believe me or not; that isn’t within my power to command. But I really am on your side."

“Oh, of course you are,” said Delaney, bitter beyond caring about her fate. “That wasn’t you I saw pointing us out to the Ordunese goons. I just happened to mistake you for your evil twin sister. Easy mistake.”

“I know. I don’t deny what I did. Worst mistake I ever made and, girl, I’ve made plenty. I’ve been a muddled, confused old woman ever since my husband disappeared, if not before. These officers came around and talked real nice and put their hands on my shoulders, full of concern. They vowed not to rest until they found my husband or the villains responsible for his disappearance. They asked me to do my part by letting them know if any suspicious characters came sneaking around.

“Then you folks show up, unannounced. Well, I didn’t know what to think of you; I have no experience with Tishaarans. So while you folks went out into the city, I contacted one of the officers and asked him what he knew of Tishaara. Well, no sooner do I mention the place than I got soldiers swarming about me like bees on rotten fruit. Something didn't seem right about them. They seemed poorly behaved and poorly mannered for Ordunese regulars. But I was still too dense to sort things out. When I saw you and that other girl approaching, I pointed you out.

“It didn’t take more than a few hours after those brutes set that second ambush—this one for your men folk—lying in ambush for your men folk before I started to question what I was doing. Why would these goons come in place of regular troops? To keep everything hushed up, as usual, that’s why. Like they hushed up what they did to my husband. And Ehiloru. I tell you, I didn’t have to look too hard at the pond scum ninnies bullying me in my own house to figure out I’d swum to the wrong side of the river. You’ll never know, or care, I suppose, how terribly sick I feel when I think about pointing that finger at you. I prayed hard, Lord I prayed hard, that you could escape them somehow.

“As soon as they left,” Dhayelle continued in her deep, soothing voice, “I said to myself, ‘Dhayelle, you’ve been a curse to humanity here on earth. You’ve aided your husband’s enemies and put good people in danger. Now what are you going to do to set things straight?”

She purred with satisfaction. “I’m pleased to say, I came up with a way. A way to turn my treachery against you into something useful. How better could I have gained the trust of those lying hoodlums than to betray you to them? So now that I had their trust, I could keep on playing the fool, that’s what I could do. They were looking for someone they could trust as a personal servant, as much as swine like that trust anyone. Well, after what I did, they could hardly doubt me now, could they? So I gained their confidence, acting like a complete dolt all along, hoping I might get a chance to find out something worthwhile.

“And the very first day on the job, who do you think I run into but that friend of yours. The polite one with the meaty forearms.”

“Windglow?” said Delaney, suspiciously. She dared not believe a word of Dhayelle’s story. Yet the suggestion that Windglow was still alive kindled hope.

“That’s him,” said Dhayelle, nodding. “Either the man has ice water for blood or else he hasn’t a lick of sense. I came around the corner with a cart of refreshments for the end of some kind of administrative meeting, and there he was. Caught him red-handed, ear glued to the door. Then the door opens and out come some of the chief goons.” She gave out a long, slow chuckle.

“What happened to him? What did you do to him?” demanded Delaney. “Is he still alive?”

“Now there’s the spirit. That’s a good sign. Excuse me, I was laughing because, heh, heh, Brother Windglow looked at me like I was a Nephil in the flesh, who had caught him snooping in the parlors of its Fifth Realm lair. Was he surprised when I shielded him from view behind my cart so’s those folks couldn’t see him! Wasn’t easy. That Windglow's got himself a lot of shank to hide. I hustled him off to my changing room and there I told him just what I told you. You’ll be pleased to know his first thought was worry over your safety. Says he’s sorry he left you high and dry.”

Delaney strained to plug the leaks in her shell of suspicion. She steeled herself against Dhayelle’s smile. These are clever, ruthless people. They’ll stoop to anything. If Windglow were free, why would he be running around in the Citadel instead of coming back to me like he was supposed to? Why would he leave me outside, clueless and alone and dying a thousand deaths!

For a moment, she imagined that Dhayelle was telling the truth,and her anger rose against Windglow as well as Dhayelle. She glared coldly at the woman and demanded, “What about the others? What happened to them. Did they find Ehiloru? Why didn’t they come out like they promised?”

Dhayelle’s smile faded. “They found Ehiloru, all right. But they couldn’t rescue him. The girl was captured. The other one was killed.”

"Who was killed?" asked Delaney, too tired to comprehend much of anything.

“Your other companion. The man. The chatty one."

It took a few more moments for that to sink in. Then Delaney stared at Dhayelle in horror. "Hummer! They killed Hummer?!"

"Yes. It was a setup,” said Dhayelle. “They were betrayed. Oh no, I had nothing to do with that. But somehow Windglow escaped. Part luck, part cleverness.” She put a finger on Delaney’s cheek. “Look, I’m sorry about your friends,” she said. “I hate being the one to tell you. But, honey, we’re in a terrible mess and we’ve got a lot of work to do. We’ll have plenty of time for weeping later.”

Delaney shot a dart of hatred at her. “That’s easy for you--” she started to say. A tear trickling from Dhayelle’s eye stopped her.

“Easy is the one thing this is not,” she said quietly. “My husband is dead, too. They killed him. They think I don’t know, but I overheard.” Wiping her eyes, she sniffled and said, “Listen. We have to stop these people before Orduna is so full of sad stories that no one has time to listen to them all. We’ve got two things going for us. Windglow is inside their headquarters without them knowing it. And he has a link to the outside who is above suspicion. What we have to do now is figure out how to make use of it.”

A cold wind ripped through the loose boards of the shack. Delaney shivered uncontrollably, only partly from cold. “What about me?” she cried. “Even if this isn’t just another one of your sick lies, what about me? What am I supposed to do now? Now that you ratted me out and put all the cops in the city on my tail."

Dhayelle sighed. “I hate to put such pressure on you after all you’ve been through, but I cannot change what is. So much depends on you, Delaney. Fact is, the fate of Orduna may rest on what you decide. Trust me or no?”

Delaney’s eyes narrowed. All the bitterness she felt toward this silly world of the realms and whoever had erased the rules of reality after she had spent 18 years learning them and growing comfortable with them poured out on this woman. Cornered, squeezed by this devil woman’s lame story, she felt only blind hatred.

Suddenly her skin crawled. Devil woman! No lie, she could literally be a witch! The realmlands are magical, aren’t they? So they could have witches. Not in the Second Realm, but perhaps this Dhayelle is from an upper realm. That would explain how she is able to play on my sympathy even after I busted her red-handed for being traitor.

“You really expect me to fall for this? How dumb do you think I am? Go back to whatever hell where you came from!” she hissed.

Dhayelle showed no anger. “There is no way I can prove anything to you. Your friends died for trusting someone far less suspect than me. Trust is a rare commodity these days; I’ve little of it myself. In fact, the only people I trust now are those I betrayed. I’m sure you can appreciate the irony in that.”

She stepped back to the door whose rusted hinges creaked loudly. “Whatever you decide,” she said, pushing the door open, “I promised Windglow I would keep an eye out for you. But your trust would make things easier.”

“I’m sure it would,” said Delaney, sarcastically. Her faculties were clicking back on, now that she was confronted by a single problem. A single problem could be resolved by a simple yes or no, instead of with any number of impossible and dimly understood alternatives in a sea of changing rules. “What is so important to this reject world of yours about me trusting you?”

“Delaney, you are the only free person in Orduna whom Windglow and I trust, and we need you. We cannot do this ourselves.”

Delaney gingerly rubbed the ache in her shin that would soon blossom into a kaleidoscopic bruise. The tragic news about Hummer and Shaska cast a poisonous vapor about her thoughts. “What choice do I have?” she asked. “You’re stronger than me. You’ll probably cut my throat in my sleep.”

Delaney gasped as Dhayelle drew a long dagger out of her robe. “If that were my goal, what better place than here in this shed where no one would hear your screams?” She shook her head and handed her the knife, hilt first. “Now try to keep inconspicuous for a change. I heard about your little gentlemen's club act in the clothing shop. And you could not have done a worse job just now, jumping in the ring with that Morp the way you did. Why not just march into the Citadel and give yourself up! You should have left the creature alone.”

Ahah!! You gave yourself away with that comment. Pretending to be so warm and compassionate and caring! But your true nature came out! Delaney saw now that she was flirting with the devil. The fact that this woman’s sincerity was irresistible at times meant nothing. If the devil was not an actor, what was she? Or if Dhayelle was not the devil, then a witch. If not a witch, then a lying whore.

Delaney marched away from the shed in a huff. If Dhayelle wanted to kill her now, fine. But at least that would be the end of it. They would not have Delaney to play the chump for them any longer. She whirled around for one last verbal shot at Dhayelle.

What she saw, however, astonished her. Dhayelle was not paying her the least attention. Instead, the old woman bent over the Morp. She took a bottle of ointment from her cloak and gently applied it to the creature’s wounds. As Delaney stood speechless before her, she wiped another tear from her eye.

Oh, this lady is good! Put her up for an Oscar.

Dhayelle tried to take the Morp’s hand, but he pulled it back, shivering with fear.

“It's afraid of me,” said Dhayelle. “Can you get him to come with us?”

As the Morp turned its head to Delaney, a glimmer of recognition danced in his swollen eyes. “My fren,” it said, with a ghastly smile through teeth specked with gray blood.

Delaney choked back a sob and stretched out he hand. "My friend," she answered.

“Yes, your friend,” said Dhayelle as she dressed the most serious of his wounds. “Now let’s go before we are found.”

The Morp took Delaney's hand. It could barely stand, and she had to put her arm around its repulsive, greasy, bloody wounded body. Dumbly wondering why she was letting herself get sucked in again, she followed Dhayelle down a trail that looped through a small woods along the riverbank.

A short time later, all three were back at Dhayelle’s house. “Sit it down carefully,” said Dhayelle, quickly drawing the blinds. “The poor creature has suffered terribly.”

“Oh, he’s a ‘poor creature’ now, is he?” scoffed Delaney, recovering her wits as Dhayelle searched her cabinets for bandages and salves. Her throbbing leg bruise only made her mood worse. “Where did all this noble compassion come from? Slipped up there, didn’t you? You were the one who said I should have left him to those sickos."

Dhayelle made no answer. The Morp’s head was so knobby and misshapen that she had trouble distinguishing the inflicted lumps from the natural. After gently washing all wounds, she applied a pungent liquid that left a reddish stain on the Morp’s gray skin.

“I know how it looks, Delaney,” said Dhayelle. “But more lies at stake here than a single life, precious as that may be. Condemn me if you must. I’m sure your Tishaaran friends would say ‘amen.’ This will shock you, honey, but you should have considered that beating as the Morp’s contribution to the cause. I only hope I have not ruined everything by bringing it here. I can never be seen with either you or the Morp.”

Delaney’s jaw dropped. She glared at Dhayelle as if she were a giant putrefying maggot.

“Don’t give me that look!” Dhayelle shot back. “There is no way on God’s green earth they would have killed this Morp today. They have too much fun with these creatures to waste their opportunities. They would have kept it around for several more days’ entertainment, at least. If you hadn’t turned into Hot-Headed Hannah out there, the daily sport would have been over in a little while. We could have spirited it away with no fuss at all, without risking the fate of the whole realm. So don’t you play this high and mighty act with me!”

“Why do you say ‘it?’” demanded Delaney.

“What are you talking about?”

“You call him ‘it’, as if he were a pet or an object,” she said, nodding toward the Morp. “He’s a person, isn’t he?”

Dhayelle considered the suggestion. “Can’t say as I ever thought of that. I suppose a Morp might be a person. Never heard anyone argue that before. I suppose it’s possible.”

“Possible!?” shrieked Delaney. “You make me want to puke. Where do you get off thinking you’re better than he is. You’re as bad as the Ordunese.”

She whacked herself on the forehead. “Hello, Delaney! She is one of them.”

Dhayelle bit back a sharp reply. She answered in a calm voice, “Actually, I'm from Mbongor. Now listen to me, Delaney. You must stay quiet! You don’t know what we’re dealing with. There is a power at work here capable of much fouler evil than a Morp-bashing. Evil beyond anything you can imagine.”

A line of tears carved a path down the old woman’s face. Delaney saw a weary emptiness in her eyes. Could even a witch fake that? Sure, why not?

“Honey,” said Dhayelle, after she finished treating the Morp. “I talk with my head but I feel with my heart. That part of me admires what you did for the Morp. It hates playing this role. I never wanted it. Never was meant for it. All I’m trying to do is atone for my sins and do my duty to my husband. I swear on his beloved memory that as soon as I find out what happened to him, I’m going to take his body back to Mbongor, and I will never set foot in this cursed city again!”

Delaney continued to wrestle with the suspicion of crocodile tears. Clearly, if Dhayelle was not an honest person, she was a powerful sorceress of the worst kind.

The dazed and groggy Morp took several spluttering swallows of an elixir that Dhayelle produced from a sparkling crystal vial. The medicine took immediate effect. The Morp’s thick eyelids closed. With a deep grunt, he sank back onto the pillow.

“You must leave Orduna at once,” said Dhayelle. “Your performance on the street will be recounted in many places around the city before the night is over. The Citadel goons will hear of it, if they haven’t already. They have your description. And if you are not found soon, they will begin to wonder why. When suspicion turns back to me, they will search here and find you.”

Leave Orduna? At once? Nothing could have sounded better to Delaney than to leave this god-forsaken dump and shake the dust from her sandals. Yet she was not going to be led around that easily. Why did Dhayelle want her out of the city? Was this just another part of her deceitful plan? Why did the woman have to make so much sense? Just once, couldn’t she make a fatal slip that would prove she was still the enemy after all?

“Tomorrow afternoon I shall meet with Windglow,” continued Dhayelle. “He knows the history of this whole tale better than any of us. Together we shall come up with a plan. Now, listen to me. You keep this Morp and yourself out of sight tomorrow. And I mean all day! Understand?”

Delaney nodded. Lord, what an actress! Only a fool would trust this she-devil, and yet here I am nodding like a kindergartner. Yup, yup, whatever you say. Like an alcoholic enticed with an open bottle, she felt a force pulling her where she did not want to go.

Is it the tears? Am I a squishy old bleeding heart? How ironic to be fooled by the legendary last resort that chauvinists of her world claimed to be the ace card of her sex? Or was she in a trance? Caught in a spell of black magic?

She tried to manufacture revulsion. She tried to imagine Dhayelle chanting and cackling, stirring potions of lizard entrails while chanting spells. But she could not transfer those images to the woman gently stroking the battered and bloody head of the sleeping Morp.

Suddenly, she saw the truth. “If you were a witch from a higher realm, you wouldn’t have any of your powers. None of your charms would be working on me. That’s realm law.”

Her hands dropped to her sides. “Okay, let’s do it.”