Derdrie smiled as she watched Gabriel Rider leave the dungeons. His face was taut with anger, a symptom of the enchantments she had woven around him. To counter his natural skepticism, she had layered rage and loathing around the idea that the things she told him weren't true. His friend had naturally not believed that the boy's lover had returned from the dead, and that conclusion had now driven a wedge in between them.

The girl, Sabrina, was an interesting case. Derdrie had been watching covertly. She'd felt the familiar tingling of magic when the girl's Gift had expressed itself. Unless Derdrie missed her guess, Sabrina was a Seer, one whose power allowed her to perceive beyond the bounds of her normal senses. The Second Sight manifested in several ways, some more useful than others. There was certain to be a way that the girl's Sight would manifest in a way that benefited Derdrie.

For now, though, she had other things to do. Donning a veil of Glamour, she fell into step behind Gabriel.

He turned to regard her. "You were right, Crys," he said sadly. "Isn't there any way to save her?"

"Perhaps," Derdrie said, feigning uncertainty. "Gwenivere Valentine is very strong. I don't know if even Mordakai has the strength to break her spells. There are some things we can try."

Gabriel stopped walking, turning to face her with anguish written on his face. "It's just that she's one of my best friends, maybe the only reason I survived without you."

Derdrie entwined her arms around him, pressing herself up against his tight chest and leaning her head into the curve of his neck. "You don't love her more than me, do you?" she asked.

"No! No, of course not. But I don't like the idea that she's being controlled by…that witch."

"I know. I don't like it either. I'd rather have her on our side, but I don't know what we can do about it right now. There are other things we have to take care of."

* * *

Tristram had Isolt, Parzaval had Blanchfleaur, and Jason Valentine had a vampire named Debbie. Somehow, he was deeply disappointed. On the other hand, he didn't even like her, much less love her, so maybe things weren't so bad. Then again, Isolt and Blanchfleaur didn't complain about the weather constantly, at least not in Chretien. Maybe Wolfram's women were whiney.

"It's cold." Debbie said for the fiftieth time. "I can't see anything."

"It's supposed to be cold. We're walking around where we're not supposed to be." Which, at the moment was 5th avenue at street level.

The streets were shrouded in fog so thick and dark that Jason was navigating by following the streetlights and keeping one hand up against the wall. His Gift didn't want to help much in the Fog, but it was better than nothing.

"Besides, you're supposed to be able to see in the dark," he said.

"Not like this," Debbie moaned. "How can you stand it?"

"Time was, I enjoyed it." Jason didn't really want to think about the life he'd left behind only a few hours ago now.

"It's cold," Debbie said for the fifty-first time.

Across his back, Jason felt Duvall stir. "You alive, kid?" he asked over his shoulder.

"It's cold," said Max Duvall.

Jason would have been convinced of the existence of God if he hadn't already been a believer. Humor like that didn't happen by accident.

More was the pity.

"How are we supposed to the way up to the Forest out here?" Debbie asked. That, at least, was a logical question, even though the answer was pretty obvious.

"I know the way. I used to live here. We're almost there." Jason pointed up ahead, where New York's skyline was almost visible through the mist.

Debbie squinted into the darkness. "Oh my god," she said. "We're on 5th Avenue. That's the Empire State Building. That's the Stairway. You can't take me up there, it's her front door."

Jason was privately relieved. Evidently in the time he had been gone, the Green Witch had not closed off the Stairway that led into her domain. If she had, Jason would have had to go back into the Netherlands and found another way up.

"You can leave any time you want to." Jason answered.

Debbie lapsed into sullen silence then. Duvall didn't move much either. In a few minutes, Jason was standing in front of the Empire State Building. He breezed into the main entrance, confident that no one inside would notice him.

* * *

The woman had been nattering non-stop since the Knights of the Circle had arrived. The Skindancer would have cheerfully killed her, but doing so would have brought the two Knights down upon him, and he did not think it could defeat them in its weakened state. Besides, the knights had mentioned the Valentines.

Gwenivere Valentine was responsible for its state. With her hated Magicks she had nearly destroyed it. Now it would bide its time. It could track her anywhere she went. It would wait. It would watch. It would dance through a thousand skins if necessary.

One of the Knights was speaking to the woman. "It will be all right now. Lord Mordakai is marshaling his forces now."

The other was more practical. "Is there anything of value left here?"

"I doubt it," the woman sobbed.

"We should find out."

More delay. Would the fools never take him to Gwenivere? The Skindancer would have screamed if the situation had allowed. It could wait. It had waited. It had waited while the two Knights dug a mass grave for the corpses the Coventrys had left behind. It had waited for days before that with the woman's warm body, so much better than his pathetic husk, so close by.

The woman straightened herself, forced on a veneer of composure. "Father Lucian needs the attention of a fully trained Healer."

The first Knight nodded. "I know, Sister. We cannot leave without investigating, though. Your skills were adequate, and we will only take a short while."

Another hour, another day, it didn't matter. The Knights would find little. Alistair had been very thorough. The Skindancer could wait.

* * *

"How did it happen?" Gabriel asked, anguished.

Crystal helped him off with his shirt, slender hands lingering on his chest. Her hands were cooler than he remembered, and passed across him with an almost electric thrill. There was so much he had forgotten without even realizing it.

"I'm not sure, love. This is all new to me. Here, try this." She handed him another shirt made of white linen.

After the shirt, she passed him a vest of black leather with wide bands across the lower torso. He slid into the vest and Crystal tightened the belts. Gabriel grunted involuntarily with her enthusiasm.

"Stiff," he said.

"I know, Angel Eyes. It will help protect you, though. Not that you need much protection." Her eyes drifted to where the Sword of Glass hung in its scabbard on a wall hook.

Gabriel took up the sword, belting it in place. The blade was hot and sullen, perhaps sensing the trouble to come. "I still don't understand what you want me to do."

Crystal sighed, exasperated. "Mordakai Coventry is the leader of the Coventrys. He may be the only one knowledgeable enough to stop the Valentines and break their spells.

"Ten years ago, Jason Valentine did something that drove him crazy, though. Now he's totally paranoid. He's still working on stopping them, but he won't tell anyone what he's doing. I need you to find out. You're going to break into his house. You can kill as many of the hirelings as you need to get the job done. They don't matter. Just don't kill any of the family."

That statement stuck in Gabriel's mind, but Crystal circled around behind him and caressed his tight jaw. "I trust you, Gabriel. I need you. I know you can do this. Just get into the workroom. I've already showed you the way."

"Right. I'll bring you what you need. Then we can free Sabrina."

"I have other options for your friend." Crystal said.

"Really?" Hope filled Gabriel's voice. He was still unsure of himself, and of the Sword. It had been…talking to him since he had first drawn it, a constant, gentle pressure in his mind. Now the Sword's voice had changed, sounding querulous.

"I still can't tell you anything. If it doesn't work, I don't want to disappoint you." Crystal kissed him, taking away his doubts. "Trust me. I'll take care of you."

"All right. I'm sure you know what you're doing." Gabriel backed away from Crystal and pulled his overcoat off of a hook on the wall. The black leather cloak concealed his blade from casual notice. He pulled a pair of gloves from the pockets and put them on. Covenshire was in the midst of a winter colder than the one back in New York.

Crystal wound a red scarf around his neck. "Remember, don't kill any of the family, especially the old man himself."

"I'm not going to kill anybody. I'll just get what you need and get back out. I'll be home by morning.

* * *

Derdrie almost sighed with relief when the boy was gone. Playing the role of his sickeningly sweet dead lover was starting to wear on her. Gradually, the spell she had infected him with would become more powerful. He would begin to see the world more and more as she wanted him to. In a few weeks, depending on how much he resisted, he would no longer question anything he said or anything she wanted him to do. He wouldn't even really remember his oh-so-perfect love anymore. Those memories would have been replaced with Glamours woven by Derdrie's Magick.

In the mean time, she still had other things to attend to. She dropped her mask of illusion and went up stairs to her own occult library. The tomes she had garnered for herself were nothing to compare to the vast collection of her father, but they were adequate to her task.

The library, like any other, was a chamber lined with bookshelves. Lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains, making this one of the brightest rooms in the house. Derdrie browsed the shelves, looking for a particular book. Though Simeon was better informed about the most ancient of Magicks, there were other sages.

Derdrie remembered something she'd read while wading through the turgid prose of Guillermo. The old Italian had crossed the Threshold during the late Renaissance and made a considerable study of the places he found. Most of his travels had been in and around Xanadu, one of the Shards of the Far East, but he had also studied the Classics, as befit a good Roman.

Derdrie chuckled to herself. Actually, she thought Guillermo was a Florentine, but she wasn't certain. At any rate, he had once traveled to the Shards around Greece, searching for signs of the ancient Gods and other absurdities. He had, if Derdrie remembered, concocted a very interesting theory about the Oracle at Delphi. Even mundane history noted her Gifts. It was enough to make Derdrie curious.

She pulled down the third volume and carried it to her desk. One of her slaves brought her a glass of wine, and she settled down to read.

* * *

Gabriel left Crystal's house by one of the rear entrances. She'd sketched out on a map where he would have to go. Mordakai Coventry lived in a castle on a hill on the far side of the city. Crystal had provided a horse for his use. Gabriel looked at the big brown animal dubiously. He hadn't ridden a horse since he was a kid at summer camp a long time ago. This was probably going to hurt later, but he couldn't very well hail a cab for his secret mission. He mounted without too much trouble and headed out the gates. One of the strange servants closed the iron barrier behind him.

A thick, sickly smoke hung over the entire city of Covenshire, which was surrounded on three sides by a thick forest and jagged, impassable mountains. Factories in various parts of the city belched out more smoke, painting the sky golden-green in the evening sun. Gabriel intended to arrive at Lord Mordakai's estate as night was falling. He took the harbor gate out of the city and rode around the edge, just within the line of woods. The air was not much better outside the city, but the trees helped a bit.

He met no resistance in the forest, though he did hear the cries of what he assumed to be wolves, and a few other, more human, sounds. It was dark when he finally reached the huge Coventry estate. The building was a massive pile of Baroque stonework. Every surface was carved, or embossed or ornamented in some way. A vast central atrium was decorated almost like a cathedral, lit from inside by some sort of flickering light source. Most of the other windows were dark. High above, lights burned in one of the upper rooms. From Crystal's description, that would be Lord Mordakai's workshop.

Gabriel dismounted and studied the layout. The estate was surrounded by a tall wall of dressed stone. A glint in the moonlight told him that the wall was crowned by shards of broken glass. Climbing over would not be easy. Inside, yet another wall surrounded the house itself. This one was more ornate, being made of reversed arches crowned by a fence of iron bars, but it looked no less formidable.

There were guards as well. The upper turrets of the house showed the motion of passing figures, and others were visible on the ground. Some of the guards on patrol led dogs, huge, misshapen brutes.

Briefly, Gabriel wondered what he was doing here. He wasn't some kind of action hero. He was a musician. Crystal needed him to do this, though. He resolutely grabbed the hilt of the Sword of Glass and felt its energy flow into him, strength, speed, and confidence vibrated in his bones. He smiled and laughed, not even aware that he was doing it, got back on the horse.

The rear of the estate held Lord Mordakai's elaborate gardens, including a hedge maze. The cover of the plants would let Gabriel get closer to the house than any other approach, so that was what he chose. He spurred the horse into a full gallop, drawing the Sword and holding the reigns in his left hand.

As he got close to the wall, he drew his legs up under him. It was something he'd seen in a movie somewhere. Even with the extra strength from the sword, he almost fell off and broke his neck. At what he judged to be the right moment, he jumped, holding the Sword out in front. Airborne, trapped in an agonizingly long second, he started to worry. When he'd conceived this crazy plan the Sword had given him the impression that it would work, but he hadn't been plummeting headlong toward a stone wall then.

The Sword of Glass blazed with golden light that Gabriel hoped was hidden from the house by the wall. As the blade touched the stone, the light focused at the tip and was accompanied by a sharp hiss. Gabriel's momentum forced the blade into the stone, burying it almost to the middle of the blade.

He was left hanging with both hands wrapped around the hilt. The sword gave him enough leverage to reach the wall, and his gloves and boots were thick enough to protect him from the glass. Crouched on the wall as low as possible, he was left with just one problem, how to get the Sword back out.

The blade answered that question for him, once again glowing gold. Gabriel really hoped his body shielded the house from the light, or there was going to be a lot of trouble. The Sword twisted and wiggled as though it was alive; gnawing its way in a gradual arc that showered the ground on both sides of the wall with chips and shards of stone. Finally, it was pointed straight up and Gabriel simply drew it out of the wall as easily as he would have out of a pile of sand.

* * *

Key, awake and fully herself, sat on the cot the Knights had provided for her and stared absently into space. For the moment, there was really nothing else she could do.

A few hours ago, two other children had arrived, accompanied by two of Kildare's soldiers. They had tried to engage Key in some game or another, but she had ignored them, raising the same shell she used to keep adults at bay when necessary. After a while, they had taken the hint and left her alone. The little girl, who had said her name was Rose, was now playing with Key's doll. Giving it to her had seemed like the thing to do.

She heard the heavy door of the Chapter house open, and she picked out Kildare's voice. The Lord of the Order did not bark out his orders, but his voice was pervasive and commanding, just as Key had remembered it from long ago. It held a note of regency. When Kildare spoke, it was hard to disagree. When he commanded, it was difficult not to obey.

Colwynn Valentine was with him. Key didn't know when the girl had become enmeshed in Kildare's web. It must not have been terribly long ago. She was moving toward the stairs, to the bunkhouse where Key waited.

"Children, we need to get ready to go," she said from the head of the stairs. "We're going up into the Forest."

"We're going to see the Green Witch?" the boy said. From his tone of voice, he was either scared, or excited. Probably both, Key thought.

His little sister was less sure. She grabbed onto him for support.

Colwynn crouched down and smiled. She had a lovely smile, like the warm sun when you're cold and wet. "Don't worry, Rosie. It'll be OK. Roderick won't let anything bad happen to us. All the Knights here will protect you, and so will I."

Rose was somewhat reassured, at least enough to smile wanly and release her death grip on her brother.

Key looked up at her gravely and hopped off the bed. She held out her arms imploringly.

Colwynn reached down to pick her up then turned to face Kildare.

"You intend to bring the children?" he asked.

Colwynn nodded. "They'll be better off with other children than staying here alone."

"Very well. We leave in half an hour. Make whatever preparations you must."

Key didn't really have any preparations to make. She allowed Colwynn to carry her down the hall to Kildare's personal quarters. The bed was wider than the cots the other knights enjoyed, but not especially more luxurious. Tapestries hung from the walls, reminding Key of her home. The only other decorations were a few weapons hung on the walls and a large chessboard.

Two wardrobes stood side by side against one wall.

Colwynn put Key down, and opened the doors of the one on the left. She drew out a sack and began stuffing items into it. Key watched from the edge of the bed. The girl had learned to travel light from somewhere. Most of her packing consisted of picking out specific bundles and arranging them to her liking in the bag. After a bit, she closed that wardrobe and opened the other, repeating the process again, presumably for Kildare.

With that task done, she turned to Key. "I don't suppose we have much for you. Gwenivere would have taken good care of you, though. I just wish I had something for your friends. Oh well, there's no time now, and the Witch will probably be able to help."

Kildare appeared a moment later. "Are you ready, then?" he asked.

Colwynn answered, "Yes. What's our plan?"

"You and I will accompany two Lances to the Green Witch's domain. When the scouts return, they will be forwarded to us. Our other Lances are still occupied. We will send messengers to give them their new positions."

Colwynn nodded seriously.

Key might have wished that Kildare had revealed more of his strength, but he had no reason to discuss such things in front of her. She'd find out soon enough.

* * *

Jason had not taken three steps into the building when two men turned on him with guns.

"There's one of them now," one of them yelled, taking aim.

Jason didn't think, he dropped to the ground, rolling Max Duvall off of his shoulder easily. One hand went for the gun at the small of his back, and the other pressed flat against the floor. His Gift gave him the information he needed. There were five. They all had guns. There were traces of minor spells on them, probably what allowed them to see Netherlanders. The Fog was almost non-existent in the building. There was a major Gate in one of the fire-stairs.

"Get down," Jason barked, seeing that Debbie hadn't moved at all.

He needn't have bothered. The Night Child hissed low and shifted form, becoming a pale, cat-like creature with a maw full of sharp teeth. Jason spared her no more thought. If she got herself killed, he had one less thing to worry about.

There were plenty of others, he realized. The three shooters were firing at the door like idiots. Shots were breaking glass and sending tourists diving for cover. The lobby didn't have much to offer, though, particularly from the doorway.

Jason rolled away from the fire, glad that the Night Child seemed to have thrown off the gunmen's aim. He popped into a kneeling position and took three shots at the closest gunman. The gun he was using pulled a little to the right, so he adjusted. He was rewarded by a spray of blood and a cry of pain as his target was hit with the last two bullets.

Debbie, moving like lightning, was on one of the others. Her claws, more like bone knives on the end of her fingers, tore into him even as he emptied his clip at her. Jason felt the Fog thicken, even though the visibility didn't change. The Mundanes in the room would have a hard time remembering what had happened here, other than that it was horrible.

The third shooter had taken cover behind a standing display of some kind.

"Idiot." Jason shot him, again firing three bullets. More than that threw off his aim too much.

The plastic stand didn't offer much protection. The third gunman had time to fire a few useless shots in Jason's general direction before he died. That left two.

One of them immediately made his presence known by firing a burst of automatic fire at Debbie.

She just roared, a blood curdling sound, and charged him.

The Mundane warrior didn't know how to handle that. He threw down his empty weapon and tried to run.

Jason shifted his attention, trying to find the fifth one. "Damnit, where are you?" He found him almost too late, as a shotgun blast shattered the air nearby. Jason dove for the meager cover of a trash can and tried to see where it came from.

The fifth gunman was behind a counter. He ducked when he realized his shot had missed Jason.

Debbie was still monstrous, and now had her last victim's face in her teeth. Blood streamed down her chest, but that wasn't her what she wanted anyway. Jason could do nothing but watch helplessly as the man's body grew colder and weaker. At the same time, Debbie's grievous wounds were healing. The flesh knitted itself over the gouges, and new skin grew over that almost looking like it had been spilled. She dropped the spent vessel and looked around for another one. Her eyes seized on Jason.

He put his gun away. As much as he might say so, he didn't really want her to die while there was the chance that she would find some shred of redemption. "Debbie, focus. Calm down. The fight's over." Jason tried to keep his voice calm and steady.

He barely had time to get the last words out before Debbie was on him. She tried to tear him in half with a swipe of her claws.

Jason's training allowed him to roll with the impact, avoiding the sharp talons. His sunglasses were knocked off his head, though. He came up in a fighting stance and got ready to meet Debbie's next charge.

He met her burning gaze, ready to stare her down, showing no fear. A Night Child's vision was far more acute than a human's. Jason realized this as he felt a chill connection form between himself and Debbie. Knowledge he tried to ignore suddenly flooded his attention. He was always careful with humans, careful to avoid showing them his eyes.

Debbie screamed. The sound started out as a feline wail, and transformed into a pure, piercing scream of absolute terror as Debbie slipped out of her bestial form.

Jason picked up his shades and put them back on, but the damage had been done. The girl was crawling backwards away from him, screaming incoherently.

"NO! NO! No, no, no, no, no," her screams gradually subsided into a sort of sobbing. She writhed away from Jason's hand on her shoulder and stared up at him, eyes blazing. She wasn't quite meeting his eyes, though. "Don't touch me!"

"I don't have time for this," Jason growled. "Get up off the floor and pick up Duvall. The cops will be here soon, if Dominick's re-enforcements don't get here first.

"What did you do to me?" Debbie was a little calmer. "I was dying."

Jason turned his back on her and went to pick up the kid. "You weren't dying, you just thought you were."

"I'm immortal, I can't die."

"Is that what Peter told you." The scorn in Jason's voice wasn't really directed at Debbie, but when your heart is already full of bile, some of it has to spill out somewhere. "You're not even really ageless, and you can defiantly be killed."

All the excitement hadn't affected Duvall. Jason saw that he was still barely conscious. "Are you still with us, kid?" he asked.

"…maybe," Max replied.

"Good enough." Jason slung the kid back over his shoulder and started walking toward the fire stairs.

No one in the building made any move to stop him. Debbie followed him, but she kept her distance. The trio climbed three flights of stairs in strained silence.

Eventually though, Debbie asked, "What did you do to me?"

Jason didn't answer immediately. "Anyone who looks into my eyes sees their death."

"How did that happen?"

"It's a curse, one of the least bad parts of a bad deal I made. I don't really want to talk about it, particularly to you." Jason's words hit Debbie like a slap to the face, and he instantly regretted them, but he didn't apologize.

"Oh."

Walking up the stairs took a long time. Jason had counted forty flights, with two breaks to shift the unconscious burden of Max Duvall, before he noticed that the stairs under his feet were lengths of wood instead of metal, concrete, and plastic. A thick, warm smell of tree sap and gentle rot filled the air a bit later.

Duvall stirred. The Rooftop Forest was a domain of life and energy, a place created by the Green Witch's Magick. That its effects would work on the stricken Prime Worlder was a good sign.

"What happened?" he asked, still weak. "The last thing I remember is…kinda weird."

Jason didn't bother to answer. "Can you walk? I'm getting pretty tired of carrying you."

"I think so." Max didn't sound particularly sure. He tried to stand, and didn't fare too badly.

Debbie materialized from the lower landing to hold him up. "I can take care of him. Why don't you take the lead?" she asked.

Jason complied, if only to give himself some solitude. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

They climbed, once again in silence. The world shifted around them with every circuit of the stairwell. The stair risers became irregular and organic. The walls were wood instead of drywall. The pervasive smell got steadily stronger. Finally, the little group reached the roof door, which was only a rough archway formed by the twining limbs, roots, and vines of a vast tree.

Max, looking out on the vista of the Treetop Forest, pretty well summed up the impression Jason had had the first time he'd seen it. "…wow."

All of Manhattan was down below, but it was partially hidden by twining roots and tree branches. The foliage was in full autumn glory, with broad bare patches that showed winter was coming. The archway opened out onto a narrow ledge that led to a path made of radial branches. At the top was the gate to the Green Witch's house.

"Who are you?" a voice asked immediately. "What are you doing here?"

Jason turned to see a kid in the mismatched rags that marked him as a Netherlander. He also had a brace of javelins, and a strange bundle that looked like a kite doing sit-ups. He was perched on one of the massive limbs, out well beyond arm's reach.

"We're here to talk to the Witch," Jason answered.

"Nobody sees the Witch, not no way, not no how." The kid was smirking. Jason thought he was standing closer to the edge than was wise.

"Do the Skyrunners work for the Green Witch now?" Jason decided that rising to the bait of his bad joke would just invite more.

"We work with her. Ever since the Valentines left the city, things have been a little messed up. The Witch likes things orderly."

"A little messed up? I guess that's one way of looking at it. Are you going to try to stop me if I try to go up?"

"Try to stop you? No. I'll just jump off the tree and go warn the people at the top. They'll try to stop you."

Debbie didn't like the delay. There wasn't room for both her and Max on the small platform, so she was still partially inside the archway, but Jason could hear her growl.

"Look," he said, "Go tell the Witch that Jason Valentine is here, alright?"

The kid looked at him speculatively. "You're Jason Valentine? You're supposed to be like ten feet tall and really cool and stuff."

"I'm also supposed to be a bloodthirsty maniac who'd kill his own parents in pursuit of his goals. Are you going to go tell her I'm here, or do you want to find out if that' s true?"

"Hey, hey, no problem. Give me a minute." The kid jumped off the tree, unfolding his glider as he went. He then caught a thermal and was lifted out of Jason's sight. A few long minutes passed, then the kid came back down, lighting neatly on his branch, which he caught with the toes of his bare feet. "You can go up."

"Thanks," Jason replied.

The Green Witch met him at the head of the stairs. She looked exactly the way Jason remembered her, bent with the first effects of advanced age, with hair more grey than brown, leaning on a staff for support.

Jason had left in the early winter, too.

"Greetings, Lord Valentine," she said.

"Greetings, My Lady," Jason answered.

"It has been long since we have seen you here. You swore not to return. Why do you now bring death to my door?"

"The girl is a Night Child, she belongs to a brood run by someone called Peter. The boy might be her fledgling. I hoped you could help him."

"That is not what I mean, Lord Valentine."

Jason knew what she was really talking about, but he still hoped to dodge the topic. "You know the Coventrys are coming, I assume."

She nodded. "I felt the shifting of the Dutchman's Foundry. That is not an answer, though, Lord Valentine."

Jason stared back, impassively. Just before he was going to relent, the Green Witch surprised him.

"It is sufficient for now, though. Come in and let me see if I can help your friend." The aged woman turned and slowly climbed the stairs. Jason followed, with the other two trailing behind. When they reached the head of the stairs, a mass of vines creaked out of the way, revealing a passage. The air beyond was thick with forest smell, and golden light poured out, flickering like stars.

* * *

Gabriel made the maze without incident. The Sword easily cut him a path inside. He followed the maze as much as possible, moving in the general direction of the house. When a wall of greenery thwarted his progress, he carved through it.

In a matter of minutes he was crouched at the opening of the maze, looking at the back door of the house. The Sword was sheathed at his side. Its light would have given him away.

The next part would be tricky. There was a guard stationed at the door, armed with a rifle. If he had time to get a shot off, Gabriel's advantage of surprise would be lost. That would make the rest much more complicated.

Tensing to run, he scooped a bit of gravel off the ground and tossed it out of the doorway. The small stones spattered into the shrubs, distracting the guard for a moment. Gabriel used the time to sprint to a closer mass of cover, a hedge near the back porch.

The sentry was clearly suspicious. He began to scan the area, holding his gun at the ready.

Gabriel circled quietly around behind the guard, his dark clothing making him nearly invisible in the darkness.

The guard spotted him too late. Gabriel's sword tore through his rifle barrel easily, then rose up to smash his face. Gabriel had altered his grip to strike with the flat instead of the blade.

Before the guard could cry out, Gabriel punched him in the stomach. As the guard staggered back, he tripped over Gabriel's ready foot. His breath left his lungs in an explosive grunt, and his head cracked against the pavement.

Gabriel spared no time to check on him. The sword's flash might have given away his position, and at any rate he was too exposed out in the open. He pressed himself against a wall, hiding the sword under his coat again, and looked for a way up.

A trellis of roses climbed up to one of the balconies. Gabriel didn't remember seeing a guard there before. The wooden framework held his weight when he tested it, so he elected to risk it. Before he got the Sword, he never would have been strong enough to pull himself up the wall. With its power, he was able to make the balcony, and even use the house's decorative stonework to provide hand and footholds to reach the roof.

Resting against a gable, he took time to check behind him. One of the roving patrols was moving toward the fallen guard. He didn't have much time left. He scrambled across the roof, moving toward the nearest tower. The towers would be a better choice than the gables because they led into stairways, rather than the attic.

The tower had three levels above the roof of the house, each with an arched window. Gabriel tried the first one, and was repelled by a shock so severe that he almost fell from the roof. After he recovered, he considered the problem. Crystal had warned him that the house was warded with spells to prevent unauthorized entry.

Maybe the Sword could get through. As soon as his hand reached the hilt, the blade informed him that it could. He drew the Sword and started to cut. It was different than before. The blade met unseen resistance about six inches away from the window. It flared gold, growing increasingly brighter as it fought against the spell, then abruptly broke through. Gabriel staggered forward as all resistance shattered. He caught himself on the window frame as shards of glass fell past his gloved fingers.

The window wasn't designed to open, only to admit light. Gabriel broke out the rest of the glass and crawled through. His gloves and coat protected him from the sharp edges. His landing on the stairs was less than graceful, but it did the job. Now he was inside Mordakai Coventry's house. He moved through the house, trying to remember Crystal's directions.

He kept the Sword of Glass out now. If he ran into Mordakai Coventry or any of the others, he would need it.

Almost no one was up in the house. Crystal had told Gabriel earlier that most of the people of Covenshire liked to be home in the dark hours. He could hear a few servants moving on the lower floors when he passed a stairwell, but most of the lights were dim, and the upper floors seemed almost deserted.

He reached the door that most likely opened into Lord Coventry's study and paused. Crystal hadn't been able to tell him exactly what he would face inside. Two of suits of plate armor flanked the door. Though they fit in perfectly with the décor, they were the only ones he had seen so far. The incongruity made him suspicious. There was nothing to be gained by waiting, though.

Holding the sword ahead of him, Gabriel advanced.

His caution was rewarded when the first suit of armor creaked ominously and its gauntlets closed around a massive sword. At the same time, Gabriel felt a strange stirring.

He put the sensation out of his mind and prepared to engage the mystically animated knight. Behind the first one, the other suit of armor was also moving, raising a big halberd.

Gabriel parried a vicious downstroke from the first knight, surprised at its strength and speed. His riposte sheared into its breastplate and drew sparks from its left arm. Inside the armor plate, Gabriel saw a flash of dirty bone, still covered with flaps of dry, leathery skin.

He had no time to contemplate that, as the halberd nearly gutted him. The Sword was too far out of position to block, so all he could do was suck his stomach away from the sharp spike as he twisted out of reach. Finally, he was able to bring his blade down on the haft, severing the pole-arm's head in an explosion of bright light.

The knights were undaunted, continuing their attack. Gabriel realized they were much slower than he was, though. They moved with a sort of lumbering efficiency, powerful but not quick. With the Sword feeding him energy, he was able to easily outmaneuver them.

Three quick strokes destroyed the halberd shaft, even as Gabriel used his momentum to kick the leg out from under the sword-wielder. Again, he got the impression of bone inside the armor. Besides the metallic clang, something snapped like a twig.

The knight fell with a heavy crash, and Gabriel gave him no time to recover before rending through the helmet with the Sword of Glass. A sickly green smoke bubbled out of the jagged hole, and the armor collapsed.

Gabriel was already working on the other one, driving his sword up past the metal collar and into the skull that he now knew was inside.

With the second suit of armor dispatched, he tried the door. He wasted no time, simply stabbing through the door handle with the Sword of Glass. He felt the same sort of resistance as he had with the window, only more intense. It took him several seconds to get the door open. He knew he didn't have much longer before he was discovered.

Lord Coventry's study was a dark place, crammed with old books and strange objects. Gabriel poked around quickly, focusing on the worktable. Several books were open, all clustered around one big, black volume. Gabriel's eyes were drawn instantly to the central book, and he somehow knew that it was the most important thing.

Using a scrap of paper to mark the open section, he tucked the book under his arm. He was turning to go when he felt a thrill, similar to the sensation given off by the suits of armor outside. Curious, he turned toward the source, a door at the opposite side of the study. This door was open, so Gabriel moved toward it.

Inside was a bent, old man, perhaps the frailest person Gabriel had ever seen. The ancient man was huddled over a large, crystalline box of some kind. Behind him stood a blond hared woman in a short white dress and a black collar. The man had to be Lord Coventry. As Gabriel moved to get a better look at him, he suddenly looked up.

"Who are you?" the man's voice was somewhere between a cough and a scream. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here to hurt you," Gabriel said, knowing this was going badly.

Lord Coventry was not listening. "Anastasia, defend me!" he commanded.

The woman charged foreword, suddenly holding a pair of blades that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Gabriel parried awkwardly, still holding the book, and tried to back away. "Look, I'm on your side," he said.

The girl forced him into the hallway. She fought with mechanical precision, every blow perfectly placed. It was all Gabriel could do, even with his enhanced speed, to keep her from scoring a killing blow.

"You have the Sword of Glass," she said. Her voice was like dry paper, brittle and weak. "You can't be here."

She had forced Gabriel into a sort of foyer at the head of the main stairs. He suddenly realized that the expanse of glass in front of him was the massive front atrium. A moment later, he realized that he'd been kicked in the chest with a force like a pneumatic hammer, and he was flying across the open air and through the glass.

Then he hit the ground in the middle of the front yard and didn't notice anything else at all.

* * *

Derdrie's carriage pulled to a stop in front of the estate. She saw her new plaything falling like a shooting star from the house. Three of her servants recovered him. Though Gabriel was unconscious, the Sword of Glass seemed to have actually kept him alive. More interesting still, he had actually recovered something.

She reached down to take the book that her third servant had brought back, one of the Simeon Grimories. One page was marked with a scrap of paper. In the light of the carriage, she examined it, and the notes scrawled in her father's hand along the margins.

"Very interesting, Father," she said to herself. "You're not trying to tap it, you're trying to open it. Why ever would you want to do something like that?"

Then she smiled, guessing at the answer, and realizing that her plaything might not have been in as great a danger as she had supposed.

To be continued…

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Changeling Seed

A Novel of the Side World

The First of the Valentine Chronicles

Copyright 2000 David Goodner

Continued from Chapter 6

Changeling Seed Archive

Chapter 7

To be continued…