and twisted in vertigo as he stumbled back down the alley, one hand on the wall to steady himself. The first sailor's body lay still and unmoving, eyes open and mouth frozen wide in shock. Chane's expression remained casually curious.

"He is dead?" Chane asked.

"Yes," Toret managed to answer, resting for just a moment more. "The body will flush all waste, and perhaps by the end of the night he'll rise, but he must rest for tonight. Tomorrow evening, he'll be ready to serve our family."

Chane studied Toret. "You do not look like you can do this again."

Toret ignored him, and straddled the second man. Gripping the back of the sailor's head, he gorged again. As life slammed into his already sated body, he gagged. When he heard the heart falter, he pulled back, but the alley spun wildly around him.

"Help me!" he hissed.

Chane gripped his wrist, jerking it toward the sailor's mouth.

Darkness erupted in Toret's head and swallowed him whole.

Pieces of memory thinned and drifted from him like blood in tepid running water.

A clay-walled hovel in the beggar's quarters of il'Nar'Sahkil, where his mother lay sick as he scavenged and stole food from the markets, wondering always where and who his father was.

Teesha's eyes, softly stern but warmly admonishing as she tended his wounds.

Sapphire's cool body next to him while the sun burned through the sky over their roof.

Cold panic seized Toret like frost crystallizing around him to hold in the memories.

He opened his eyes to find himself lying facedown in the alley, his cheek to the cobblestone, and he convulsed until blood poured again from his mouth. He pushed himself up on his elbows as his abdomen clenched over and over, even after nothing more would come up.

By the time Toret finished, he was too weak to walk, and Chane lifted him to his feet, leaning him against the alley wall. He looked down at the bloodied cobblestones.

"I see now why you did not want to take them back to the house first," Chane commented dryly.

Toret ignored him, both hands flat against the wall to keep himself from sliding to the ground again.

"Search the alleys," he instructed weakly. "Find barrels, crates, tarp, or whatever is useful to hide the bodies. Then hail a carriage. I must get them back to the house."

"Very well," Chane answered. "I'll get them loaded. While you take them home, I will find your lady her young girl, perhaps somewhere in the upper districts. Will you be strong enough to unload them by the time you reach home?"

Toret nodded, and Chane slipped down the alley.

A visitor waited patiently outside Lord Au'shiyn's home in the inner wall ring. He remained in the shadows, and no one in this wealthy neighborhood had even seen him arrive. In little time, his patience was rewarded, as a coach pulled up to the outer gate.

Lord Au'shiyn stepped out and walked toward the front steps of his home as the coach pulled around behind the house. In a city that had grown faster in population than in physical size, space for a personal coach and driver was a luxury even among the wealthy. Lord Au'shiyn lived well indeed.

As he reached the front door, the visitor stepped from the shadows to follow him up the walk, and called out softly, "A word, if you please."

Au'shiyn turned in mild annoyance, looking tired and uninterested in a late chat, but then recognition crossed his features, and he stopped.

"Oh, good evening. What brings you here so late?"

The visitor stepped up to front porch as if to convey information, and his gloved hand seized the back of Au'shiyn's neck.

Before the Suman elite could cry out, the visitor bit into his throat with elongated canines, not to drink but to tear. He ripped flesh open to expose raw veins, crushing his victim's windpipe in the process.

Lord Au'shiyn died quickly, with panic in his eyes.

The visitor shook the body until blood ran free to soak the white shirt and russet robe. The layered cloth wraps about Au'shiyn's head fell to the porch. Pausing, the visitor shredded the shirt's front for savage effect and then dropped the corpse upon the steps.

Chapter 12

The sun hadn't yet risen, and Leesil lay sleepless in his bed.

Upon leaving Lanjov's bank the day before, he, Magiere, and Chap had gone to the alley behind the Rowanwood. Chap smelled the piece of lavender silk Leesil had cut from Sapphire's gown, sniffed the ground, and, with a bursting cry, took off down the winding back ways.