Even so, he saw the woman behind him. Her platinum hair added nothing to her age. She was the very flower of womanhood, dressed in a simple chemise of white silk with a silver gown over it. The gown shimmered, even in the dim light of the scriptorium, like sun touched water on the surface of a calm pool. Her eyes were the color of water as well, not blue, as a child would depict it, but an unnamed color transparent, yet obscuring the depths beyond.

The Scribe tore a fragment of his awareness away from his sister. He was being infected with poetry in his dotage. "I trust this is not merely a social visit, for I know that thou art sorely pressed with many and sundry matters in the world beyond." There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

His guest acknowledged the statement with a brief nod. "You're right, of course. I've come to see after our youngest brother. The others will feel it soon as well, no doubt." She looked up at the faintly glowing windows.

The Scribe had no need to follow her gaze. He knew that the cracked window was growing worse. Tiny shards of glass and bits of lead would fall from the panel at the slightest touch. A sickly light burned behind the glass, as well.

"Our brother doth stir in his sleep. He has done so aforetimes, and will do so anon."

"It's more than that, and you know it." His sister's voice was now accusing, hot where his had been cold. "He's smarter than any of us, except possibly Mother, and he had a way of escape planned before we'd even contrived a way to hold him."

"And what, pray thee, wouldst thou have of me, Sister? Mine eyes are still blind to him, as to our Father. Whatever his machinations, they are contained within the Mortal realm, where I will not interfere."

"Would you stop talking like a bad PBS special and take this seriously? He's going to wake up. The Spell is going to be undone. Even if you can't find our brother, you can tell me who he's manipulating. You know everything that happens, damnit."

"I have sworn, as have we all, not to change the Mortal realm again. Thou may do as thou wilt, but I shall not be foresworn."

She let out a ragged breath. "I'm not trying to change anything, I'm trying to keep things the way they're supposed to be."

The Scribe gave no answer, but returned to his work, tracing delicate trails of smoke in black and gold and green above the iron towers of Covenshire in the margin of his book.

Chapter 4

Gwenivere sank with some relief into the cushions of one of Julie's sofas and allowed the music drifting up from the club below to wash over her. The other members of her unlikely company found seats around the room and answered one of The Thorn Queen's subjects when she asked them what they might like to drink.

Gabriel was still holding Key, who had fallen asleep along the way. She now slept peacefully leaned up against his side. Gwenivere smiled when she saw Gabriel lick his fingers to wipe away a stray smear of jelly from the side of her mouth.

Amber, if Gwenivere remembered the girl's name correctly, bowed stiffly to Gwenivere. "Would you like anything, Milady? My Mistress will be here soon. She was somewhat detained, but she told me to make you all comfortable until she could get here."

"I'm fine. Do you know if she got my messages through?"

"I'm not certain, Milady."

"That's alright. Waiting will give us a chance to talk."

The girl left the room. As soon as she was gone, Gwenivere got up and started pacing.

"Where can I even begin?" she asked rhetorically. "It's bad enough that I have to drag Gabriel into this. I have no idea what I'm going to do with the two of you. Let's see… We've got past the 'Magic is real' stage, haven't we?"

"I believe we've covered that, yes," Sabrina answered.

"Good. Do you actually believe it?"

"I'm willing to accept the fact that you do."

Gwenivere spun to face her. "That's not good enough. You have to be ready for what you're getting yourselves into. I guess I'll have to do this the hard way." She concentrated and framed a spell, calling on the primal Words for fire, and binding them in carefully phrased Words for control.

The resulting spell would have sounded like a poem in a foreign language to the other occupants of the room. As the stanzas were finished, a tiny spark grew into a ball of fire about the size of a peach, the image of a tiny star. The flames spun about in fluid streams, confined by the parameters of Gwenivere's spell. At her urging, the little will-o-wisp danced around the room, lighting some of the candles and flying around obstacles.

When Gwenivere almost accidentally set fire to one of Julie's antique sofas, she decided the game had gone on long enough and gestured for the sphere to ground itself in the fireplace.

Her audience was watching with rapt attention, except for Key, who woke up with a yawn and a luxurious stretch.

"Wow," Max breathed.

"Why didn't you do that before, back in the park?" Gabriel asked.

"Actually, I did. Not that spell exactly, but I cast a couple of them. It's not as easy as you might think, though. The little cantrip I just used didn't take much energy. It also couldn't have done much more than singe the upholstery or set paper on fire. A spell powerful enough to kill someone takes a lot more energy, which I don't have to spare."

"That makes sense." Sabrina was thoughtful. "The energy you use to summon the fire comes from your own metabolism?"

"Some of it. The more I can take from somewhere else, the better, of course, but every spell I cast drains a little of my personal reserves. If I use too much Magick, I can pass out, or die. Even short of that, if I use too much energy on spells, I won't have enough to run around or defend myself in a fight. We need to talk about some other things, though."

"Like the man who was trying to kill you in the park?" Gabriel asked.

"Exactly. I want to try to explain what you'll be getting into if you insist on following me. First I'll need to give you a lesson in geography."

Gwenivere proceeded to lay out the nature of the Prime Realm, the surrounding Netherlands, and the Shards beyond that. She explained briefly the concept of the Ways that connected the layers of Reality, then launched into a brief history lesson. "One of the Shards is a place called Covenshire. If you were to find a really old map of the North East, you might find Covenshire listed. Chances are that someone would have spilled coffee on that part, or something. The Threshold tries to keep the Magick and Mundane worlds separate. It has all kinds of cheap tricks like that."

She went on, telling an abridged version of the story of the conflict between the Coventrys and the Valentines, ending with the part where Mordakai Coventry almost annexed the Netherlands of New York to his own realm, and Gwenivere's parents sacrificed their lives to stop him.

"And all this happened in Bedlvedere Castle?" Max was still having trouble with the concept of parallel geography.

"Close enough. The Castle is one of the places where the Netherlands and the Prime World touch each other. In the Netherlands, it looks a lot different, though. For one thing, it's covered with spiders."

"Spiders?" Sabrina asked.

"It's a long story. To stop Mordakai, Richard, my father, had to bargain with some very powerful beings. You'd think of them as gods, but they don't really care if anyone worships them. The ones who agreed to help him took the spider as their totem creature." Gwenivere struggled against the limitations of the English language, and her audience's mundane education. "These beings are big on symbols. The three involved here like spiders."

A light dawned in Sabrina's eyes. "The Fates," she said.

"Very good. I don't really think they weave men's fates from birth to death, but that's where their power lies, over chance and probability, and time to some extent. Papa asked them to keep Mordakai from doing something he really had to do within a certain timeframe. Their price was high, though. Everyone in the Castle when the ritual was enacted was put into a kind of stasis, removed from time. One of my uncles spent years trying to figure out how to get them out, but there's no way to break the spell."

Gwenivere broke off, moving her thoughts away from the painful subject, and looked down at the nightclub below. It was alive with action, as the Goths and clubkids carefully ignored each other. A familiar figure at the bar caught her attention, though.

"Jason?" she said, surprised. "What would he be doing with the Knights?"

"Who are you looking at?" Gabriel had moved up behind her, offering a comforting presence.

"That guy at the bar, the one who looks way too old to be at a place like this, and has a gun and a sword hidden under his coat." Gwenivere would have been surprised if her companion had noticed the concealed weapons, but she liked to show off. "He's my brother. Julie must have found him." Turning to the door, she added, "Wait here. I'll go get him."

Julie's doors must have been lined with cork. Gwenivere opened the door to the club, and almost staggered back from the noise. It had been a long time since she'd been to a nightclub. A thick haze of smoke rolled in at about knee height. She made her way through a gallery full of children dancing, fondly remembering when she'd been that young and carefree. The gallery terminated in a curving stair. Dancers lined that as well. She used the elevation to get her bearings, and to pick Jason out of the crowd. He had abandoned the lively bar and was pushing carefully in the direction of an empty table as far from the dance floor as he could get. Gwenivere moved to intercept him, sinuously weaving through the pressing crowds. She'd learned to dance in several styles, mostly to annoy her parents. These children's' semi-random gyrations were not difficult to work around. She managed to reach Jason's table just as he was sitting down.

"Hiya, handsome," she purred playfully. The effect was almost ruined by the fact that she had to purr while shouting.

"I've already got a…Gwenivere?" Jason stopped in mid growl, eyes wide with surprise. "You're here, too?"

That was odd. Gwenivere could think of no reason Jason would come to the Grand Façade except at Julie's invitation. "Who were you expecting?" she asked.

"Nobody. I fell off the wagon and into the Fog. This is the only place in the Real city that will take my money now."

"Julie didn't send you?"

"The Thorn Queen? I haven't seen her. This is ridiculous. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Up stairs." Gwenivere gestured in the direction of the gallery.

Jason got up and followed her, still carrying his drink. The noise level dropped a bit as they reached the top of the stairs.

Gwenivere looked over her shoulder. "We have some problems," she said gravely.

"Coventry problems?" Jason sounded more resigned than concerned.

"You've heard, then."

"We'll compare notes inside."

Gwenivere stopped at the door. "Look, I've got three Prime Worlders with me, and I really don't want to hear about it right now."

"Three?" Jason stopped dead in the hall and threw up his arms. "You brought three total innocents into the Netherlands?"

Gwenivere crossed her arms. "It wasn't exactly my choice, OK. One of them picked up the Sword of Glass, and the other two won't leave. They've been here too long, now. Even if I left them, they'd be in the Netherlands. How long do you think they'd last without someone to watch them?"

"I only believe this day could get any worse because I'm a total pessimist. You do know that, don't you, sister?"

"Yeah, and I mostly agree with you." Gwenivere opened the door. "Now come meet my new friends."

Inside, the Prime Worlders and Key were still waiting. Max was watching the dancers down below. Key had awakened, and was sitting comfortably next to Gabriel. The little girl seemed to have taken a liking to the brooding young man. Gwenivere supposed that was logical, given that he had probably appeared out of a fog and saved her from terrible danger. Gwenivere had been pretty grateful, and she was a fully grown Magician.

As soon as the door closed and the noise abated, she made introductions. "Gabriel Rider, Sabrina Lucas, Maxwell Duvall, Key, this is Jason Valentine, my older brother. Jason, Gabriel, Sabrina, Max, and Key"

"You said three," Jason accused, "And you didn't say anything about a kid."

"I said three Prime Worlders." Gwenivere corrected him. "I think Key might be from the Summer Kingdom. She doesn't talk enough for me to place her accent."

"There's a story, I take it." Jason sank into one of Julie's chairs and sipped his drink.

"The Simonites found her. I took her with me when I left, because I didn't want her to die."

"So you were there when Alistair attacked."

"You're sure you haven't talked to Julie? You seem to know a lot for someone who hasn't been informed."

"I've been talking to the Knights of the Circle." Jason's lip curled in distaste. "Colwynn is with them. A messenger from the Monastery was found earlier today."

Gwenivere's heart sank with the news. "I told them to run. I told them." She turned, fist raised to smash something in frustration, but all of Julie's furniture was expensive.

"I'm sure you did." Jason's voice was more understanding now. He paused for a moment. "Kildare will want to hear this. We should go back to the Chapterhouse."

Gwenivere digested that quickly. For several years her brother had scrupulously avoided any dealings with the Netherlands. Clearly he wanted to do the same thing here even if it meant letting Lord Kildare take charge of the fight against the Coventrys.

"Maybe later, Jason," she replied. "I still want to hit the Goblin Market before sunrise, and I've lost a good deal of time. If I'm stuck with these three, I'll need them properly equipped."

"Good idea," Jason agreed. "I'll go with you."

Gwenivere turned to her new companions. "You guys ready for some shopping?" she asked. "Jason might even have some money."

The Prime Worlders were subdued. As the quest became more real, their enthusiasm was waning a bit.

On their way out of the club, the group encountered Amber again.

"Did Julie ever come back?" Gwenivere asked.

"No, Milady."

"Oh." Gwenivere was disappointed. She hoped her friend hadn't run into trouble. "When she gets back, tell her I already found Jason, and he knows where the Knights are. We're going to the Market if she gets back before daybreak."

"Of course, Milady."

Outside, the streets were quiet. The Threshold separated Netherlanders from the Prime Realm, lending an odd sense of distance to the sound of passing cars and people.

Max staggered backwards when he saw the club from the Netherlands. He hadn't been fully taken by the Threshold when they arrived.

"This place is huge," he breathed. "It takes up the whole block."

"From the Netherlands side it does," Gwenivere agreed. "It's built in the shadow of a building that used to stand there, but was burned down. Julie uses less than a quarter of the original space for her nightclub, and the building has grown over time."

"How does a building grow?"

"With Magick, of course."

"Where is this Goblin Market?" Sabrina asked. Though she was clearly as curious as Max about the Façade, she kept a practical focus.

"Probably in the Old City." Gwenivere answered. "Try not to get too attached to geography. Where we're going, point A doesn't always connect to point B. Just follow me, and don't wander off."

Jason took up the rear as Gwenivere led her charges down into a subway station. "Are you sure you remember the way?" he asked.

"Probably. If not, we can stop somewhere and get directions."

Jason snorted in response.

Finding the Old City didn't take long, despite Jason's disparagement. Gwenivere found that her knowledge of the Netherlands returned easily, and the city hadn't changed enough to be unrecognizable. The small company surfaced in front of the main gate. Thick mists loomed up behind them, clearing only to reveal the big, iron bound doors, which hung open for the Market.

Gwenivere led her charges inside, ignoring their openmouthed amazement. "This is the Old City. It's one of the three largest Domains in Manhattan. The other two are the Park and the Treetop Forest, which are really just one big place, and the Undercity. There are some other regions that are made up of lots of little Domains, like the tunnels where we just were.

"There are a lot of … people," Sabrina noticed.

With the Goblin Market open, the Old City had filled up. Most of the year it was almost empty, since the Undercity was more comfortable in some ways. Many of the denizens were not altogether human.

"The Goblins come up from the Underworld, bringing treasures from all the Shards you can only reach through the tunnels. They sell what they find in several places. Over time, other people realized that there would be opportunities to sell. Now there's kind of a circuit of merchants, craftsmen, and outright charlatans who ply their trade at the Goblin Markets. New York's is one of the biggest." Gwenivere explained. "Gabriel's better armed than anyone alive right now, but you two will need some help if you're going to survive in this world. There's a whole armory back in the Castle, but we can't really get to it, can we, Jason?"

Her brother's answer was cold and final, and revealed the hurt her barb had inflicted. "No. We can't."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, but it was really too late.

"Do you have a plan?" Jason changed the subject, deflecting her apology into empty air.

"We need to find a good place to work from, then I'll have to see who's here and what's for sale. There should be a tavern around here somewhere."

They started moving through the crowds of Netherlanders. Jason faded to the end of the group to catch stragglers. As they moved, Gwenivere tried to put herself into the place of Gabriel and his friends.

The Old City must have looked like a scene from a movie. There were iron lampposts set with either open braziers or oil lanterns. The clouds above blocked out the moon and stars, so the only light was dim and chaotic, a far cry from the pervasive electricity of the outside world. The people on the streets, and in the shops were dressed in a hodgepodge of styles. Many of them were Netherlanders in clothes salvaged from the refuse of the Prime Realm, quilted jackets and homespun tunics.

Others came from nearby Shards, and were dressed in the varied styles of their worlds. The Goblins of the Market were clad in wild colors, or in dark leather studded with bits of random technology from pipe fittings to circuit boards.

The Goblins were not the only merchants, of course. An empty lot had become the temporary home of a Gypsy caravan. The Romany performed feats of acrobatics and prestidigitation to amuse passers-by, and to relieve them of their belongings. Another part of the broad, flat square held a stage for a group of traveling players. The stage was set up to face the open patio of a tavern, and a sparse crowd was watching from the benches.

Everywhere, touches of the Prime Realm were melded to the eclectic, fantastic world of the Netherlands. The traveling players had acquired a source of electrical power. While their footlights were lime-burning lanterns, they had one spotlight salvaged from somewhere and mounted on a wooden swivel. It had been mounted on the tavern roof, and was shining down on someone doing a scene from Hamlet, or at least talking to a skull. Gwenivere couldn't hear the actor over the other noise of the street.

"This looks like a good place," she said as they reached the square. "Stay in the tavern. I'll take you with me one at a time. The price on everything goes up for tourists. As for the rest of you, don't get drunk and don't get into fights. Gabriel, keep the Sword covered. Do not pull it out for any reason."

"I'll stay with the children." Jason said sourly.

Gwenivere grinned at him. "Don't you get drunk or get into fights either."

With Sabrina, Gwenivere wandered the marketplace, not exactly sure what she was looking for. The Goblin Market filled almost the entire Old City. Most of the merchants set up simple booths, often nothing more than openings in the sides of their wagons, along the streets and in open lots.

Others, though, filled shops and buildings that were once private dwellings with their wares. Through the Magick of the Goblin Market, these shops would only exist from sunset to sunrise. When the light of the sun cleared the wall of the Old City, all of those stores would fade away. The merchants in carts would drive away, and the Old City would be an empty shell again.

"This is amazing." Sabrina said. The girl was holding up quite well. Though her eyes drank in everything, she didn't gawk or stare openmouthed at what she saw.

"I guess. I'm kind of used to it. It was pretty amazing the first time, though. Come this way." Gwenivere led the girl through a narrow gap between carts and into a dimly lit building.

The shop was little more than a roof supported by beams. There were a few flickering candles for light. Weapons lined the walls, as well as armor pieces and a few non-martial examples of metalwork.

"Do you know how to fight?" Gwenivere asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean. I took some Fencing in college."

"Foil, right?"

"The Sabre is un-ladylike."

"I guess deep puncture wounds aren't as messy as long cuts." Gwenivere agreed. "Were you any good?"

"Not really. I only took the class because...someone I liked was taking it."

"Then not much of this will be of any use. We'll have to see what else we can come up with." Gwenivere thought for a minute then went up to the narrow rail separating the smithy from the open shop.

The smith, a gnarled, little man with huge arms and slate grey skin, looked up at her. "Buying?" he spat.

"Possibly. Do you know if Vasha is here, or Rosalind?"

"Yep. I know."

This was going to be one of those, Gwenivere realized. She opened her coin purse and withdrew some pennies, change from her mundane purchases. "Could you possibly tell me if Vasha or Rosalind are here?" she smiled sweetly.

"Vasha's in the Dark Quarter, with all the other sorcerers. Rosalind's around here somewhere, but I don't know if she's buying or selling." the Kobold answered.

"Thank you so very much." Gwenivere said. Turning to Sabrina she said, "Let's go. If I can find Vasha, this will be perfect."

The Dark Quarter was on the far edge of the Old City, where the buildings of Manhattan loomed up and cast deep shadows. Even more than the rest of the Domain, light was scarce. Instead of street lamps, there were a few torches set into wall sconces. No words decorated the placards hanging from the signposts, either. Each Magician decorated his shop with nothing but a personal symbol. Here, you either knew who you wanted to see, or you didn't.

Gwenivere thought she knew where Vasha would set up shop. She moved through the twisting streets, looking for the proper house. Vasha was a creature of habit.

"Who is this Vasha?" Sabrina asked.

Gwenivere took a moment to answer, looking around for Vasha's sigil. "She's a dealer in antiques, and certain kinds of information. She owes me a couple of favors. There's a chance that she'll pay me off by giving me something that will protect you and Maxwell. She might also be able to tell me what the Coventrys are up to, but I doubt it."

* * *

Max was getting bored. Gabriel thought it was a bad sign. His friend was watching the musicians on stage with half his attention. Their music was a wild blend of Celtic folk and modern rock, and their choice of instruments just as eclectic.

The other half of Max's attention was reserved for the dancers who had gathered before the stage, including a pair of scantily attired young women who had annexed a table as part of the dance floor.

The women were worthy of attention, Gabriel privately admitted. They were pale, dark haired and bright eyed, though one of the pair partly hid her eyes behind a pair of frosted glasses. The girls were wearing the strange mix of modern and archaic clothing that seemed to be the uniform of the Netherlands. Their outfits consisted of bits of leather and chains that would not have been out of place in a modern nightclub. In fact, they would have fit in perfectly in the Facade.

Gabriel saw his friend lean over and nudge Jason Valentine.

"Your soul mate," Max said, indicating the girl in sunglasses.

Jason just snarled something and shook off Max's hand. Max had been on the mark, if a little too forward. Gwenivere's brother had been wearing dark glasses when she had first introduced him to Gabriel and his friends, and the Grand Facade was not noticeably brighter than the night outside.

"Be quiet." Jason growled. He was staring past the players, over their heads. "We're in trouble."

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked. He couldn't see what the other man was looking at, but something nagged at the back of his consciousness. It had started a few minutes ago, and gotten steadily worse.

"Look on the roof across the square. Don't stare, but put it in the field of your vision."

Gabriel looked in the indicated direction, but couldn't find anything. Then he saw it, a shifting shadow, something that gave the impression of an animal.

"What is that?" he asked.

Jason answered, "I'm not sure. It's probably one of Alistair's Hounds, you'd think of it as a 'hellhound', which is close enough to the truth. If it is, then he knows we're here."

"Alistair? One of the Coventrys, right?"

Jason nodded. "He's a hunter, and a fighter. If there's one of those dogs, then there will be more."

"What do we do?"

"Nothing, for now. The dog's not doing anything. It may not have found what its looking for. I don't want to fight a pack of dogs alone. You can't help me without giving away our position, and your friend doesn't have a weapon. Besides, he looks busy."

Indeed, Max had entered the impromptu dance floor, and was making his way in the direction of the two girls and their friends. He had, with little effort, picked up the style of dance most of the revelers were using. Max was talented that way.

"Stay here." Jason said. "I'll be back."

With that, the big man inserted himself seamlessly into the crowd and started working his way along the edges of the square.

That left Gabriel alone with Key, who was watching Max dance with the girls on the table. They twined around him sensuously, and he responded, improvising movements to complement theirs.

"Idiot." Key's quiet words surprised Gabriel. She hardly ever spoke spontaneously.

"That's not a very nice thing to say," he remonished. "Probably true, though."

"Those are bad ladies," Key answered.

"That's the kind Max likes. He's just playing around."

"Those are bad ladies," Key said again, more empathetically.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked. Gwenivere had said that the girl was from one of the Shards, so she probably knew more about what was going on than Gabriel did.

"They're bad. They'll hurt him."

Gabriel straightened and reached under his coat for the Sword of Glass. It was once again wrapped in cloth to conceal its nature. Even so, he felt it grow warm under his touch. A strange clarity descended over his vision. The world around him became sharper, more detailed.

At the same time there were distortions. Peculiar shadows hovered around some of the crowd. Others were touched by faint light. The girls Max was dancing with were cast in cool shadow, and as they moved, their forms changed. Like a hologram that changed when viewed from different angles, once they would be a pair of beautiful women, then a pair of sleek, pale monsters with red eyes and dagger like claws.

Movement along the rooftops caught Gabriel's eyes as well. He could now clearly see the dog-like patch of blackness moving along the darkness of the rooftop, and several others besides.

Jason Valentine was nowhere to be seen. He was lost in the press of people around the square. Gabriel looked vainly in the direction he'd last been going, but he could find no sign of the man.

Back on the rooftops, Gabriel could now see another figure moving amongst the Hounds. This one was human, or at least humanoid. He, because it seemed more male than female, was smoothly crossing along the roofline, clearly moving toward a specific destination. Gabriel squinted against the meager light, but could make out no details.

He caught sight of Jason, though. Gwenivere's brother was moving toward what seemed to be the same place as the lurker on the rooftops. Gabriel had a sudden sense that there as about to a fight.

* * *

Vasha's shop was dim, even by the standards of the Dark Quarter. The old Sorcerer didn't need much light. The windows were all blackened, and not even a flicker of lantern light spilled out under the door.

Gwenivere knocked once, and the door swung open.

"Enter, Lady Gwenivere Valentine, …and friend," said a voice from beyond.

"That's Vasha," Gwenivere explained. "He likes cheap tricks. He probably had some minor spirit watching the door. Since the spirit didn't know who you were, it couldn't call you by name.

"The girl could have been named, but she does not know her true name."

Gwenivere rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tell your master I don't have time for parlor tricks. I'm here to shop."

"Of course, Lady Gwenivere," the disembodied voice replied.

There was a sudden chill breeze, which Gwenivere interpreted as the departure of the spirit.

In its absence Sabrina quietly spoke. "Actually, Gwenivere, I'm a foundling. I really don't know my real last name. I took the last name of my foster parents."

"Oh." Gwenivere still figured the spirit just got lucky.

The cold wind returned, and a single point of light, no brighter than a candle, floated through the parlor.

"My Master will trade with you," said the disembodied voice

The will-o-wisp started moving back through the door. Gwenivere and Sabrina followed. Flickering, the light led them into a room overlooking a courtyard. The buildings of the Old City were closely packed, with no lawns. Some, like this one, had inner gardens. All the vegetation in the once ornate courtyard was dead, blackened, and cracked. Statues depicting nymphs and fawns decorated an elaborate, but dead fountain. As Vasha's spirit-light rose to hover above the heads of the room's occupants the ghostly figures seemed to dance and writhe.

Vasha himself sat in a huge wooden chair on the far side of the room. He wore a cloak with a deep cowl. Nothing could be seen of the features beyond it. His hands were covered by black gloves, with ornate jewelry encrusting them.

Tables lined the room, draped in velvet, with Vasha's wears displayed upon them. Numerous lecterns held books. Wooden stands displayed crystal orbs or oddly shaped bits of stone. Other objects were hidden in boxes, and still others were arrayed, with what seemed like careless abandon, across the dark velvet cloth.

Sabrina looked around her, curious and mystified. In the dim, dancing light, the room seemed to be a shadowy wonderland.

"Sit down, girl." Vasha's voice was dry and brittle from disuse. "You have come to trade."

Gwenivere moved to the indicated place, a high-backed wooden chair across a massive table from Vasha's throne.

The old sorcerer waved his hand admonishingly. "Not you. Her. She's here to trade."

"Vasha, I don't have time for your games," Gwenivere said. "We have a long way to go yet, and the night's not getting any darker."

"There are other shops, Lady Gwenivere. In my house, I do as I will, and I will trade with the nameless girl, and no other."

"Oh have it your way," Gwenivere sighed.

Sabrina looked pensive. "I'd have no idea what to do, Gwenivere."

Vasha chuckled, a sound like leaves rustling in the wind. "I'll not harm you, girl. Sit down and tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what I want in return."

Nervously, Sabrina sat in the stiff-backed chair. "I'm not sure what I need…"

"I could tell you." Gwenivere could imagine Vasha smiling under his cowl. "Of course, that would be one thing you owed me."

"No." Sabrina looked at Gwenivere questioningly. "I don't know."

"You need something to protect yourself," Gwenivere supplied.

Vasha nodded sagely. "All people need protection. You, especially. I see your road ahead, and it has many rocks."

"You know the future?" Sabrina was awed.

"I could tell you what I know."

"But that would cost extra," Sabrina finished for him. "No, thank you." She was picking up the nuances quickly.

"Hurry, girl. The market will be closing soon, and children who stay too long at the market are born away by the Goblins."

"Is that true?" Sabrina looked to Gwenivere again.

"I don't know. I've never stayed too long," Gwenivere answered. "Look, Vasha, she's a Prime Worlder. She doesn't know how to play. Just give her something she can use to defend herself, and tell me what I owe you for it. Just this one time can we do it without all the drama?"

Vasha shrugged expressively. "For a princess of this realm, I suppose I can make an exception. I trust you will remember my cooperation when your brother claims his crown."

"I'll remember everything you've ever done for me, Vasha." Gwenivere's voice was ice, and her tone evidently communicated something to the sorcerer.

"Quite right," he replied, rising.

Vasha was very tall. Gwenivere never remembered how tall until she saw him stand up. Under his hood, he looked to be at least seven feet tall. His figure concealed beneath dark robes and gloves was scarcely human. He glided across the floor silently, moving around his desk to one of the tables adjacent to his desk. Long fingers, clad in black satin and pale silver jewelry were all that emerged from the sleeves of his robes as he opened one of the wooden boxes.

Sabrina had followed him with her eyes, craning around in her chair. Her eyes widened when she saw what he drew out.

Gwenivere moved over to get a better view. Vasha's slender fingers had produced a medallion in the shape of a wolf's head. In the pale light, the stones set into the silver metal to represent the eyes alternately cast back sparkles of gold, red, or green.

"This will serve your needs, girl." Vasha laid the chain across Sabrina's open hands. "I think it suits."

"What does it do?" Sabrina asked. "What do you want for it?"

"It will protect you, and possibly guide you. As to the price…" Beneath the shadows of his hood, Vasha looked thoughtful. "I owe your father a debt. I once undertook a commission on his behalf, and I was unable to complete it. Take the wolf, and that debt will be canceled."

"You know my father? My birth father? What can you tell me about him?"

"Almost anything you wish, but that would be a separate commission. The pendant is yours without personal cost."

Sabrina was cautious. "You don't want me to pay you anything?"

"I will be settling a debt. You will not be incurring one."

The girl looked questioningly at Gwenivere.

Gwenivere regarded the medallion. It was a Magickal charm, but the spells woven into it were too obscure for her to unravel. "I'd take it," she said finally. "He won't give you a better offer, and we're running out of time. I'll be able to figure out how to make it work later."

Sabrina nodded gravely to Vasha. "I accept."

"Excellent." Vasha's smile was almost visible in the darkness of his hood. He took the chain and looped it around Sabrina's neck.

The wolf medallion hung just above the upper curve of her breasts. She put her hand to the back of her neck, touching the chain. "It's cold."

"It will warm up," Vasha said. "Now leave me. The light troubles my eyes, and I wish to extinguish it. Besides, one of the rocks I see in your road is around the next bend."

Outside, the pair walked out of the Dark Quarter. They had barely rounded the corner from Vasha's house before Sabrina backed up against a wall as though she needed it to support her.

"What's wrong?" Gwenivere took the girl by the arm.

"I just saw Gabriel. He was running, holding a glowing sword."

"What?" Gwenivere used her Magick sight to look over Sabrina's aura.

Wild Magick was dancing there. Sometimes Prime Worlders thrust into the Magickal reality of the Netherlands developed strange Gifts. The Goblin Market was one of the most Magickal places there was, but it was still strange for the Gift to emerge so quickly. Perhaps Vasha had done something.

"You're having a vision," Gwenivere supplied. "I can explain, but we may not have time. Do you know when you saw him? Was it the past, or the future?

"The future, I think, but very soon." Fear was creeping into Sabrina's voice. She'd been pushed about as far as a Prime Worlder could be expected to go, and Gwenivere had a bad feeling there was more ahead.

"We'd better get back to them, then." Gwenivere started back down the street.

A few steps behind, Sabrina followed.

* * *

Gabriel watched with a sick fascination as the world went mad.

Jason Valentine reached the corner of a two-story building just as the figure on the roof dropped down. There was a flash of steel, and the ring of metal on metal.

Gabriel couldn't see any of the details of the fight, but his strangely acute vision picked up another figure on the rooftop, a man who stood slowly and raised something curved to his face. It was a horn, which the figure blew once in a long, deep blast.

Three of the dog-like figures jumped down from the roof into the crowd. Gabriel got his first good look at them and was repulsed. They were huge, shoulder high to a man, and gauntly muscular. It was not their foaming fangs or red ember eyes that repelled him, though. There was a sense of wrongness about them, something that turned his stomach at the same time it caused a burning anger in him.

Without thinking, he pulled the cloth wrapped Sword of Glass from under his coat. It seemed to pulse in his hands, but he resisted the urge to pull free the cloth wrappings and draw the sword. Gwenivere had told him to keep it hidden.

Key looked at the huge dogs strangely unafraid. Gabriel stepped in front of her, though.

On the square, the effect was instantaneous, and chaotic. Some people scattered. Others drew weapons. The musicians began to hurriedly pack their instruments away.

Jason evidently got the best of his opponent and threw him into the square. Gabriel saw the young man hit the ground and skid, but he got up and dusted himself off with no apparent sign of pain. He held a whip in one hand and a sword in the other.

"Is that all you have, old man?" the boy asked. "Elliot fights better."

Jason snarled incoherently, but did not rush forward.

The man with the hunting horn looked down. Gabriel could still not see his face. "Stop playing, boy. We're here to find Gwenivere, not to engage in pointless battles."

"You're here to find Gwenivere, Uncle. I'm here to kill Valentines, or anyone else."

Gabriel pulled his eyes away. The situation on the ground was growing untenable. The Hounds seemed to be looking for something. They only attacked if someone moved on them, but when they did they were ruthless, and stronger than a human. More and more of the creatures seemed to be melting out of the shadows. Gabriel lost sight of Jason again.

Max was almost on the far side of the square. Gabriel could find no way to reach him, particularly without leaving Key undefended. Max was moving to aid one of his dance partners, one of the 'bad ladies', who was cornered by two of the big black dogs.

"What is he thinking?" Knowing Max he wasn't thinking at all. He tended to act on impulse, heedless of the consequences.

This time he had a plan, though. He dove into one of the dogs, catching it behind the shoulder, then rolled to his feet. When the dog rushed him, Max pointed something at its face. Gabriel could see something spray out, and the dog yelped in agony. Evidently Max was carrying a canister of pepper spray. Max didn't waste time. He grabbed the girl and pulled her in the direction of the tavern, where the tables would provide some cover.

The figure on the roof leapt down. Gabriel didn't know how he did it without breaking his legs. There was a muted clash as the armor the man wore settled about him.

"You're a dead man, Alistair." Jason's voice rose above the tumult. He held a curved sword in his right hand and a pump action shotgun in his left.

Gabriel watched as Jason drew aim at the armored man. Before he could fire, though, the lash of the boy's whip wrapped around the gun barrel and pulled the weapon off line. The shot boomed out and obliterated the top of a torch sconce.

"Did you forget about me, old man?" the boy sneered.

"No." Jason shook the gun, working it down and back.

The tightly coiled whip worked the action, and Jason fired. Shot peppered the boy's arm and shoulder, and he released his whip. Jason ran towards him before he could recover, but didn't stab him. Instead, he planted a foot in the boy's chest and flipped up onto the stage. His momentum didn't slow as he ran through the surprised musicians.

Three dogs were closing on Max, snarling. One of them tackled him. He rolled under the beast and raised an arm to ward his face. Gabriel saw that he had dropped the pepper spray.

"Max!" Gabriel didn't think. He tore at the wrappings on the sword and ran toward his friend. Light flared from the blade as he ran.

The dogs turned as one to face the new threat. Beyond them, the girl Max had been trying to rescue threw her arms up and hissed, backing away.

The first dog leapt at Gabriel, and he swung the sword like a baseball bat to connect with its head. Just as before, the blade sheared through bone and flesh almost without stopping. The dog's weight was considerable, though, and the bulk crashed into Gabriel, driving him to the ground. He struggled to rise as the second dog closed.

From behind him, he could hear Jason Valentine. "Idiot! Now they all know where you are."

Gabriel was finally able to lever the first dog off of his legs just in time to intercept the snapping jaws of the second. He held the Sword in both hands, pushing with all his strength. There was no momentum behind the sword this time, but it still blazed with light and the dog seemed to flinch away from it. Gabriel kicked, catching the dog on the flank, and was able to get to his feet. He wrenched the Sword around savagely, and blood frothed from the dog's mouth.

The hound backed away, snarling uncertainly.

Jason was right next to him now. The Valentine warrior pragmatically took aim at the dog and blew its head off.

"Why did you draw the Sword? It's almost as effective a weapon under the wrappings. Now the Coventrys know we have it," he said.

"I didn't know…"

Gabriel didn't have time to finish his excuse. Jason's earlier opponent, the boy, closed unsteadily. His whip was gone and his right arm hung uselessly at his side, but he still held the sword in his right.

"That wasn't nice, old man." The boy snickered. "Not nice at all. Mumsie says that if you don't know how to play nice, you can't keep your toys."

Suddenly, the boy exploded into motion. Jason had no time to work the action on his gun as his opponent almost flickered across the ground.

The big Valentine fighter raised his blade to deflect a stroke from the boy.

Gabriel kept his eyes on the dogs. They were not attacking now, but were forming a circle.

"Run," Jason said.

Gabriel looked for a way to be of use.

"Go." Jason kicked the boy in the side, knocking him back a step, then worked in for a vicious upward slash that should have taken the boy's arm.

The boy was faster, though. He caught Jason's blade with his own and twisted it sharply. Jason only avoided losing his sword by stepping rapidly off the main line of attack.

"Go!" he said again.

Alistair Coventry, the armored man, was making his way casually across the field.

Gabriel looked wildly around, trying to find Key. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Go!" Jason said a third time.

Gabriel's decision was made for him as the third dog finally leapt at him. He slammed the flat of his sword into the side of its' head and ran, realizing that while the dogs wouldn't attack the boy or his opponent, they had no compunctions about taking him.

He sprinted through a narrow doorway leading through the back of the tavern. As he'd hoped, the close quarters and overturned furnishings slowed his pursuers long enough for him to get out of the building. From there, he had no plan other than to run like mad.

* * *

"Back this way," Sabrina said. "Some of the background looked familiar."

Gwenivere followed her as Sabrina tried to get back to Gabriel. The girl's vision had come with a sense of immediacy. They were moving quickly, and Gwenivere had a spell ready to cast.

The sounds coming from the streets ahead indicated that they were moving in the right direction. The pair had barely left the Dark Quarter before a gunshot clearly echoed through the Old City.

Gwenivere had to shield her eyes from a sudden light. "I think that's him," she said. "I told him not to draw the sword. Does he ever listen?"

"Not often," Sabrina answered. "What's that behind him?"

Alistair's Hounds answered for themselves. One of them let loose with a haunting howl as the others filled the street with their savage barking.

"Enemies," Gwenivere said. "Alistair Coventry likes to hunt. His hunting Hounds are normal dogs possessed by demons."

Sabrina didn't have any reply to that. "They're getting closer."

Gwenivere readied her spell, concentrating on the Words and drawing up the energy. She had to wait until Gabriel was within her range. The Hounds, three of them, were almost snapping at his heels before she was sure he wouldn't be caught in the effect.

She called out the Words that had been inscribed on the card she was holding, and a sheet of fire blanketed the cobblestones. The dogs were engulfed, and cried out in pain.

Gabriel stopped, amazed, and looked back behind him.

"We don't have time," Gwenivere yelled at him. "There will be more, and their master."

Gabriel closed the distance between them. "Jason and Key, and Max…They're still back there."

Gwenivere thought over the tactics of the situation. "There's nothing we can do now. It's almost daylight. We have to get out of the Market before that, and we can't let them follow us."

"We can't just leave them," Gabriel protested.

Gwenivere took him by both shoulders. "If you hadn't drawn the Sword it might have been different, but the Coventrys want it, and we can't let them have it. If I can find someplace safe to stash the two of you I'll be able to come back for Jason."

Gabriel stared at her, unconvinced by her logic. Clearly he hadn't overcome his innate nobility enough to know that you really can abandon a companion if the situation calls for it.

Sabrina was no help, either. While she didn't charge down the alley herself, it was clear that she wanted to.

"Look," Gwenivere said. "There's another way I can help him, OK. It's a pain in the tail, and I really don't want to do it, but if it will get you moving, I can call on someone else for help."

The young man was torn. His better nature told him to go help his friend, regardless of the cost. Finally, though, logic won out. "Do it," he said gravely.

Gwenivere sighed in relief. "OK, let's get off the street."

The small group pulled away from the street, into the protective darkness of an alley. Gwenivere sank to her knees and concentrated. She never would have tried this if she hadn't known which members of her family were in the city. There were Valentines she really didn't want to talk to right now. She formed a spell off the top of her head, stringing together Words for Speech and Wind and the word that meant Valentine, a part of her true name.

"Colwynn?" she asked silently. "Can you hear me?"

Gwenivere's sister answered after a moment of hesitation. "Gwenivere? Where are you? Are you in the city?"

"I don't have time to talk. Jason's in trouble. I need you to Find him and bring Knights. I'll get in touch with you later when it's safe. Do you understand?"

"What's happening?"

"Alistair is here, possibly others, too. I can't stay to fight them. Hurry." The spell proved too taxing. Gwenivere let it slip away to conserve her energies. She'd need them later. "Alright, help is coming. Can we go now?" she asked her companions.

The streets were in chaos everywhere. Though the Coventry attack was limited to one part of the city, violence and fear had rippled outward. Those merchants who had taken over buildings were barricading the doors. Everyone else was either trying to take advantage of the confusion, or huddling behind whatever cover they could find. Goblins were good at nothing if it wasn't avoiding trouble. Almost all the people left on the streets were human, or mostly so.

Gwenivere led her charges through the alley and into the maze of side streets behind the main thoroughfares. Gabriel had re-sheathed the Sword of Glass, and the blade had dimmed its radiance. Perhaps it sensed a need for stealth.

"Where are we going?" Sabrina asked.

"I wanted to get to the wall and just go over, but that's no good. Dominick will have mundane servants watching the borders. The Fog will keep us from seeing them, but they will probably be able to see us. I think by the sound that the chase has reached the middle of the city. We may be able to make it out the front gate, if we're lucky. If not, I'll have to find us a way into the tunnels. I really don't want to do that, though. It's been a long time, and I don't know my way around very well anymore."

The back alleys were quieter than the main streets, though the baying of Alistair's hounds grew more frequent. The little group was able to make fair speed. In a few minutes, they could see the walls of the Old City, and the blocky gatehouse. Sounds from the battle indicated that the Knights of the Circle had joined the fray. Gwenivere wasn't surprised that some had been close to the Market.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

"That's a very good idea, Gwenivere," an oily, seductive voice came from behind her. "Why don't I give you a ride?"

Gwenivere spun to see Derdrie Coventry dressed in black leather, flanked by a pair of bareshirted muscleboys with eyes devoid of thought. Both of them held sub-machineguns and wore studded dog collars.

"Derdrie," Gwenivere's voice was a snarl. "How did you hide yourself from me?"

"I've had ever so long to practice since we last met, and you didn't really want to see me, did you?"

Gwenivere cursed her own stupidity. She'd had no idea how concerted the Coventry efforts were. Derdrie's Sorcery allowed her to manipulate emotions and perceptions. She had used that power to keep Gwenivere and her companions from noticing the fact that they were followed, or realizing how easy their escape had been.

"Why don't you take off that belt? It will only get you into trouble. Your spells might be able to take out my two pets, but they'll never take brother Dominick's servants."

Gwenivere looked around and saw a black van pull up beyond the gates. The doors opened to reveal two men in long, dark coats. Both of them held guns.

"Dominick is helping me out in return for me smoothing over a little disagreement he had with Alistair. Alistair was so cross with you when you left him, you know. He was very snappish when he got home," Derdrie said.

Gabriel tensed beside Gwenivere, hand on his sword hilt.

"Don't do it, beautiful eyes," Derdrie warned. "I'd hate to have to kill you, or your little friend. The Sword of Glass might be able to protect you, but it won't save her if I have my pets shoot both of you."

"Do as she says, Gabriel," Gwenivere said, praying he'd obey. "We've lost here."

Sighing, she took off her belt and let it slip to the pavement. Gabriel hadn't moved, though he was vibrating with tension.

The two muscleboys raised their guns and worked the actions.

A very tense moment passed before Gabriel's hand left the sword.

As if heedless of the danger, Derdrie Coventry walked forward. She snapped her fingers and a servant in her livery scurried out of the van, carrying a black box.

"This will keep you honest, Gwenivere. I trust you'll accept it willingly." Derdrie opened the box and drew out a length of iron chain. An incongruously modern padlock was hanging, open, from one end.

Gwenivere took an involuntary step backwards, away from the length of iron. As Derdrie's servants took aim at Gabriel and Sabrina, though, she stopped.

Derdrie smiled, a venomous, sweet expression, and locked the chain around Gwenivere's neck. Almost immediately, Gwenivere felt the sickening weight of the demon Derdrie had bound into the chain. It enveloped her like a wet, cold, moldy blanket, snuffing out the air and dimming her sight. She sank to her knees, choking, even though the chain was not tight.

Distantly, she heard Sabrina say, "what did you do to her?"

Gabriel's arms were around her. She could see the panicked concern on his face, but couldn't form any response in her head.

"Don't worry about her, beautiful. I'll keep you entertained from now on." Derdrie's honeyed tones cut through the thickness that now surrounded Gwenivere.

If she could have moved, she would have killed the Sorceress. Instead she struggled to form some words, anything, with a suddenly wooden tongue. She failed, though, and even her eyes lost focus. She felt herself being lifted and unceremoniously dumped into the back of the van.

* * *

Jason was in trouble, and he knew it. The shotgun was empty. It had taken care of those Hounds that Alistair had kept by him, though. Unfortunately, Vincent, Elysia Coventry's devil child, had been given time to recover. Now Jason faced both Sorcerous warriors, and he wasn't sure he could win. Worse than that, the sun was coming up. If he couldn't find a way to end this in the next few minutes, he was seriously in danger of being in the Market too long. He dropped the useless gun and switched to a two-handed stance with the katana.

The Hounds were hunting, no doubt looking for Gwenivere and the kid with the Sword of Glass. As long as they were hunting, they hadn't caught anything yet. Jason's other two opponents were more of a problem. Alistair Coventry could call upon his personal demons to increase his strength, speed, and cunning, becoming the ultimate hunter. Jason had no idea what Vincent could do, he hadn't yet been bound to any demons when Jason had last seen him. The boy was fast, though, and seemed to feel no pain.

Vincent advanced cautiously on Jason. His body still bore garish wounds, but he was using his arm now with no trouble. He had recovered his whip and now cracked it negligently to keep Jason from approaching too closely.

Alistair circled to Jason's left, snarling low in his throat. His growl was echoed from behind Jason, indicating that some of the Hounds at least, had abandoned the hunt.

Jason could feel the ground under his feet. The earth knew where every creature that walked upon it was. Through his Gift of the Touch, Jason knew it, too. He could almost feel the way Alistair was tensing for a spring. He drove the katana forward in a feint thrust.

The armored Coventry took the bait and leapt at Jason, sabre slashing downward.

Jason dodged easily, pivoting around Alistair's arm and shoulder. He brought his blade down viciously and felt it bite into the metal of the Sorcerer's armor.

Before he could follow up his advantage, Jason felt something slam into him, knocking him off his feet. He deflected the snapping jaws of one of Alistair's Hounds. The beast had jumped down from a neighboring rooftop, evading Jason's notice.

"Leave him alone!" Colwynn's shrill command was punctuated by the buzzing whine of a bowshot.

The Hound flinched as an arrow buried itself in its neck. Jason took advantage and kicked it off of him. He rose to see Colwynn and a group of Circle Knights, all armed and armored. Kildare stood amongst them holding a massive battle sword.

"You've lost this round, Alistair." The Lord Knight's voice was as hard as steel. "You don't want to be here after sunrise any more than we do."

Alistair rose carefully and regarded his foes with burning eyes. "I've still the advantage of numbers."

"Do you really believe that?" Jason could not tell if Kildare was bluffing or not. Either way, the man was a formidable magician. Alistair's position had deteriorated considerably.

Vincent looked at the frozen tableaux and laughed.

Alistair snarled, "Shut up, boy. Go back to your mother. We'll hunt another day."

"Wise decision, Lord Coventry." Kildare bowed formally.

Jason didn't relax until the Coventrys were gone, and the Hounds with them. Then the fatigue of his battle hit him all at once. He sank onto a bench, sighing.

Colwynn rushed to his side. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Tired. We don't have much time. Gwenivere had Prime Worlders with her. I was protecting two of them, and they're gone."

"Describe them," Kildare commanded.

"A girl, white hair, wearing a blue jacket. A man, young, brown hair, in leather. He was over there." Jason pointed to the place where he last saw Max.

Nothing was there now except for some broken furniture and a small, silver canister. Colwynn crouched down in the circle of devastation, running her fingers along the ground.

"Did this belong to your friend?" She held up the pepper spray.

"Yes. I think he used it before. Can you Find him?"

"Maybe. This isn't much."

"You said there was another," Kildare reminded.

"A little girl. She may be a Netherlander, though."

"Is that her." Kildare pointed at Key, who was standing in the doorway of the tavern. The chaos that had ravaged the area had evidently done her no harm.

The child regarded Kildare with solemn eyes, then delicately crossed to his side. She mutely held up her hands, and the Lord Knight picked her up.

"What's your name?" he asked, in a voice much gentler than he usually used.

"Gwenivere called her Key," Jason supplied when the girl did not answer for herself.

"Isn't Gwenivere here?" Colwynn asked. "She called me to Find you. I thought she'd be with you."

Jason stood up, cleaned off his sword, and returned it to the scabbard. "I hope she's gone by now. She had one of the Prime Worlders with her, and the other one ran off in her general direction. We don't have time for a more detailed explanation. I'll tell you everything once we're out of the Market. I really have no desire to spend the rest of my life as a slave in the Goblin City."

To be continued in May…

I'd like to make a comment about this article.

This page has been visited Hit Counter times.

Changeling Seed

A Novel of the Side World

The First of the Valentine Chronicles

Copyright 2000 David Goodner

Continued from Chapter 3

Changeling Seed Archive

Interlude

To be continued in May…