They did the rope next. Rhiana said she wanted spelled bindings to tie and hold Callion and the traitor. So Rhiana cut the rope into five-foot lengths, folded them in half, tied a square knot halfway between the fold and the ends to form a loop, and then spliced the cut ends together to form another loop. When it was finished, it looked like Rhiana was trying to create handcuffs . . . except she hadn't given herself any way to control the size of the cuffs, or to tighten or loosen them. Kate couldn't see how the rope would serve any purpose at all.

  "Make one of these," she said, and while Kate tied one, she finished the other two.

  "Now," Rhiana said, "give me as much magic as you did when we were spelling the jars."

  Puzzled, Kate complied. Rhiana held one of the rope bindings and closed her eyes tightly. When Kate passed the energy to her, she murmured, "K-Mart, K-Mart, K-Mart," until the rope began to glow.

  "What in the world are you doing?" Kate asked.

  "You heard the release word, right? The name of the store where we got this rope?"

  "K-Mart," Kate said.

  "Yes. Put this around your wrists."

  Kate slipped the yellow rope loops around her wrists. No sooner were both her hands through the loops than the rope shrank until it fit snugly against her skin. It didn't bind or chafe. She thought she would try to get free until she realized that her hands weren't moving. Her arms wouldn't obey her, either. She could feel perfectly, but suddenly her arms acted like they belonged to someone else.

  "K-Mart," Rhiana said. The loops expanded to their original size.

  "I'm impressed."

  "They should hold even Callion," Rhiana said. "In order to undo them, he would have to unravel my spell all the way back to your magic source, and since I can't even figure out what your magic source is, I don't think that will happen."

  "Then we're done."

  "Except for capturing Callion and the Watchers, yes."

  Kate wasn't ready to think about that. She knew she would have to face it, but until she did, she wanted as much blissful unawareness as she could manage. She forced the coming confrontation from her mind; she let the steady pounding of the surf and the slow progress of the waves as they crept toward her on the incoming tide lull her into a state of peaceful relaxation.

  Rhiana dug her fingers through the sand and watched a line of pelicans flying just above the water. From time to time one of the birds would drop out of line and plummet beneath the surface of the water, to emerge an instant later with its bulging gullet full of fish. "My people have a saying: 'Some good is born of every evil.' Have you ever heard that?"

  "Of course. There are dozens of such sayings. 'Every cloud has a silver lining' is probably the most common among my people." She glanced at the other woman. "Why? Have you found your little bit of good?"

  Rhiana smiled at Kate, her face suddenly illuminated by a warmth and a joy Kate had never seen there before. "Oh, yes," she said. "For the first time in my life, I know what love feels like." She hugged herself and stared out at the sparkling waves. "And as I have come to know this, I have also come to know who the traitor isn't."

  Thirty Three

  Callion felt his enemies moving; they stood out against the bleak landscape of South Florida's magical currents like balefires on a moonless night. The Aregen thought of Angie, already impregnated and on her way to Arizona, and of the other women who carried his children or who had already given birth to them. He'd had enough time to accomplish in this world what he needed to accomplish. More than a hundred young half-Aregen infants would begin growing up in an atmosphere as rarefied, privileged, and secure as Callion's considerable talents could design. They would be kept safe while he returned to his world and took over. They would be ready when he came back to get them: taught to accept the existence of other worlds, given good educations and brought up to believe in their own superiority, they would be ready to step into the power vacuum he intended to create in Glenraven.

  He had to consider his work in the Machine World temporarily finished. Now it was time to look toward going home.

  Unlike the Glenravener exiles whose offspring populated the Machine World, Callion wasn't trapped there. He could have returned to Glenraven through a gate of his own making at any time. The problem for him wasn't in the trip, but in the destination. Once he arrived, he knew he would either have to hide himself away—and hidden away he could not affect those people he needed to affect—or he could present himself and deal with the consequences. Because he had made an enemy of the current Watchmistress, he could expect that she would hunt him down with the enormous resources at her disposal and destroy him, and as much as he wanted to imagine some other outcome, he could find none he could believe in.

  However, through the unknown traitor a perfect disguise presented itself. He could go into Glenraven as a helpless prisoner, captured by the world's heroes, taken before the Watchmistress and her council of cronies. With the aid of the traitor, he could then destroy the heroes, the Watchmistress and the council. And when he was finished, he could destroy the traitor. No one liked traitors, not even those who employed them.

  Callion wondered what he might do to make his captivity more comfortable and less strenuous. He settled into his office chair and stared out at the late-afternoon sun that shimmered off the palm leaves. He was going to miss the Machine World. He would miss the giant palmetto bugs and peanut butter and television and electricity. Maybe once all of this was over, he would erect a permanent gate between the two worlds and take over the Machine World as well. Maybe. In the meantime, he needed to tie up the last of his loose ends.

  He called Rickman, Rickman, Slater, Stern and Brodski.

  When he got past the secretary, he found Daniel Stern as happy to hear from him as always.

  "I have another young woman to put on our roll," he said. "The papers went out to you today."

  "That's wonderful. Wonderful. I'll set up the trust for her and her child as soon as they arrive."

  "Thank you. That isn't why I called, however."

  "It isn't?" Stern's voice carried a hint of concern.

  "Unfortunately, no. This young woman will be the last I can help." Callion coughed, imitating the rheumy rattle of a man near death. "Primarily, I wanted to say good-bye."

  "Oh, no . . ."

  "I've been told by my specialists that I have only days to live.

  I had the option of entering a hospital, but of course if I went in they would expect to use all their machines on me, and I can't accept that. I'm an old man and I'm dying, and I think I'd rather do it with a little grace."

  "I understand. I've often thought I would prefer to go at home, too."

  "I'm not going, Dan. I'm dying. I hate those namby-pamby little euphemisms. I'm not going to pass on or slip away or leave." He coughed again, making it sound like the end of everything when he did. "I'm just . . . going ... to die."

  "I know. I simply wish you weren't. In my entire life I have never had the privilege of working with someone as compassionate and caring, or as determined to help his fellow humans as you. So please forgive me if I try to pretend that what's coming is only a temporary loss, and not a permanent one."

  Callion gave his lawyer a wheezy chuckle. "Ah, Daniel, at least I know I'll be missed. I don't think anyone, in the end, can hope for more than that."

  "I promise you'll be missed."

  "Go ahead and set everything in motion to run without me, will you? I want to know before I'm gone that the things that mean so much to me will continue."

  "Consider it done,"

  Callion hung up the phone grinning. That was him . . . the finest human being his lawyer had ever known. Which only said something about the quality of human beings his lawyer knew.

  But if his lawyer had poor taste in heroes, he was excellent with trusts and funds and the business of doing business; Callion didn't worry about the future of his many children. When he came back to collect them, he would find them well cared for, well educated, and ready for the next phase of his plan.

  He wondered what Daniel Stern would think of him if he knew that Callion intended to kidnap his female offspring away from their mothers, take them into Glenraven, and mate with all of them. He figured that one out of every two of those children ought to be nearly pure Aregen. He thought he would cull out the females who weren't, and most of the males. He wondered if he could encourage his nephew Hultif, one of the few Aregen still surviving in Glenraven, to breed with some of the females. Callion had to kill Hultif eventually—the ill-begotten back-stabber had turned on him in Glenraven; otherwise Callion would have already been in charge. But Callion had done a little reading on genetic diversity, and he thought he ought to have some. Hultif could contribute that much to his uncle's cause before he died.

  Thirty-four

  Kate sat down on the edge of her bed and picked up the Fodor's Guide to Glenraven. She hadn't looked at it since she and Rhiana had discovered that it no longer worked.

  "What are you doing?" Rhiana asked. She folded her clothing and shoved it into a little nylon suitcase Kate had loaned her; all of them were getting ready to check out of the hotel. They wouldn't need the rooms for another day. They would either be on their way back to Glenraven, or they would be dead.

  "Hoping." Kate ran her fingers along the edge of the book, noticing that she couldn't feel any tingle in her hands when she touched it. She wondered if it was dead, or if the spell could be removed if she and Rhiana just knew what they were doing. She decided that it couldn't be entirely dead—had it been, she and Rhiana could no longer have talked to each other.

  She finally decided that she might know more if she opened it. At random, she opened the book near the middle. The print was gone. She riffled through the pages, confronted by nothing but white. She looked up to find Rhiana watching her. She shook her head slowly.

  "I feared things would not have changed," Rhiana said.

  "They have, though. Now they're worse." Kate turned the book around and held it up so that Rhiana could see.

  "Then we'll have no help finding our way back to Glenraven."

  "Doesn't look like it."

  Rhiana turned back to her packing, Kate put the book into her backpack, rose, and stuffed her own belongings into her other suitcase. The actions seemed futile.

  She opened the door between the two rooms, and Errga, Tik, and Val came over. Since Val and Tik had only the clothes they'd worn from Glenraven, and Errga didn't have any clothes at all, none of the three of them were bothered by the inconvenience of packing.

  "I'm going to miss room service," Ilk said.

  Val laughed. "I won't. I was afraid every time someone came to the door that he would see you or get a clear look at me; I'll be delighted to get back to a world where we aren't the only ones who look like us."

  "I'll be most pleased to get back to my mate and my cubs," Errga said. "I don't belong here."

  "Nor do I," Tik agreed, "but I'll dream of some of the wonders of this world for the rest of my life. I can imagine myself in a house with fireless heat. And telephones would make my work in Glenraven so much simpler. And I can see myself driving a car between cities and cothas," he said.

  Actually, Kate could imagine that. Tik . . . hunting, picking up babes . . . the Gary Larson cartoon of the two bears sitting in a rusted-out car abandoned in the woods flashed through her mind, and before she could stop herself, she muttered, "You'd be the bear from hell." None of them heard her.

  The three males couldn't have heard an army marching in; they were laughing and joking with each other, all three of them in high spirits. She wanted to tell them to be serious, that they were going to face Callion and that they were probably going to die. But maybe they couldn't deal with fear any other way. Maybe she ought to laugh and joke with them . . . except she couldn't think of anything funny to say.

  I'm twenty-seven. I'll be twenty-eight in June. Two mare months. I really hope I get to be twenty-eight.

  Rhiana stood on the bed and waved her arms. "Listen, all of you. Before we go, we need to agree on how we are going to attack. There are five of us. There's one of him, plus the Watchers. We can perhaps surround him, but not them."

  Tik said, "The Watchers can be contained only by magic. Physical weapons won't do anything against them, but they will against Callion."

  Kate nodded. "Rhiana and I planned to go after the Watchers together while the three of you took on Callion."

  "One of us needs to have the shotgun," Val said.

  Kate saw Rhiana glance at him quickly, then look away. "Who should have it?"

  Kate said, "It's made for human hands to operate. That would make Val the logical choice."

  Val shook his head. "It would seem to, but I can move more quietly through small spaces than Tik, and could come around from behind. Errga is well armed with teeth and claws, and is the fastest of the three of us. If we can get to Callion before he can create a spell, he'll be forced to use physical weapons like the three of us—and our physical weapons will be better." Val gave Rhiana a little smile and flexed his fingertips, unsheathing long, knife-pointed claws from the fleshy pads. "To me, that makes Tik the logical choice to carry the shotgun."

  Tik nodded. "Well-reasoned, old friend. I suggest that the two of you allow the three of us to go through the doors first. We are less likely to alert the wizard of our presence if he senses none of your magic. The house will have two doors on the ground floor, right?"

  Kate nodded. "Fire codes require that all dwellings have at least two exits."

  "Then I suggest the warrag and I go through one door and the Kin goes through the other, and that we go through the house as quickly as we can, locating and subduing Callion. And that the two of you follow immediately behind us and use whatever spell you'll cast to stop the Watchers. When they cannot attack us, come help us with Callion."

  The warrag said, "You should follow us through the door and let the Kin come in from the other side. He can move making no sound at all; should we need more surprise than simply breaking down the door and rushing through, he can provide it."

  "What about locks?" Kate asked. "I'm assuming that Callion will have both doors locked. Tik, I'm guessing that you could go through a barred steel door with just a shove, but if Val has to break down his door to get through it, it won't matter much that he can move quietly afterward."

  The Kin grinned at her, showing all of his teeth. "You don't know about the Kin, fair Kate. The lock does not exist that we cannot seduce into letting go of its secrets. Callion's door will open for me."

  The dagreth nodded. "It's true," he said. "Val can charm the coldest metal."

  "Or the coldest heart," the warrag said.

  Rhiana flushed and glanced at Val again. Val had the grace to blush.

  "Then we need to be on our way," Kate said. She hoped to provide a distraction.

  The sun was just setting when they hurried out of the hotel and into the van. Rhiana scrambled into the front seat, buckled herself in, and rested her feet in front of the cooler; Tik, Val, and Errga jumped into the back. Kate, who had already paid for their stay, climbed into the driver's seat, feeling her stomach beginning to knot with dread.

  One of them was a traitor.

  One of them.

  Which one?

  And the other four headed into battle, not knowing which of their comrades could turn on them. Or would. Kate wondered if the traitor would attack before they caught Callion, or after . . . or at all. If she only knew what he hoped to accomplish, she would be able to prepare herself. As it was, she felt the .9mm nestled in the waistband of her jeans, hidden by her baggy T-shirt, and she hoped that her defenses and Rhiana's would be enough to counter anything they would face.

  Thirty-five

  Callion felt the weight of daylight roll off his shoulders when the sun dropped below the horizon. He disliked daylight, and intensely disliked the brightness of the Florida sun, but for that moment, on that day, the unwelcome weight could have lingered a bit longer. Something told him they were coming for him.

  He couldn't feel them. They were too careful to allow their magic to show. They would keep it carefully hidden until they needed it—but he had some idea of their abilities. He'd felt the two women working together, and the power they moved had been impressive. Not overwhelming, and certainly not anything he couldn't handle, but they weren't the average three-spell wonders, either.

  He didn't know how they would come for him, but he thought he could get himself captured with the least trouble if he made it easy for them to surprise him. The first thing he had to do was contain the Devourers.

  They'd been torpid in their room since their huge feeding. Even now, two days later, they didn't flicker or flit; instead they glowed a dull, constant red-gold, and when they moved at all, they flowed like cold oil a finger's breadth above the floor. He'd decided to contain them in something with a stopper, and in a moment of whimsy had purchased a tall, slender ceramic decanter from one of the local knickknack vendors. The decanter looked to him like the genie lamp from his favorite television show, I Dream of Jeannie. He liked the show so much that, after viewing one particularly amusing episode, he'd turned himself into a replica of Barbara Eden and transported around the house by blinking and bobbing his head over folded arms. It had been great fun, if a little silly.

  The decanter had that same external silliness. He'd done work on the inside of it, however, soaking it in a decoction of hemlock and belladonna and pouring hot wax in to keep the poisons fixed to the inside surface. He'd cast heavy spells on the whole thing, too, so that he didn't think the Devourers would be able to break free for several weeks. He didn't think anything could hold them indefinitely, but he didn't need to hold them indefinitely. He had as many uses for them in Glenraven as he'd had in the Machine World.

  He went into their room. They were sprawled in a serpentine rope of diamond light, almost perfectly unmoving. He squatted by them with the decanter closed and sealed.