around the wall and saw the beautifully sculpted shrines, eight in all, to her far left and right flanks. She glanced upward to check the walls, concerned that Beflophat might have guards or followers such as those she had glimpsed in the black ship. She feared that his worshipers might leap down at her, tearing her to pieces that would comfortably fit in the massive jaws lining Bellophat's stomach. Lightning struck a nearby tree, adding much needed illumination.
The second court was deserted, the walls secure.
Slowly she approached the final gate, which led into the Chosen Plaza, the third and last court, where those willing to make the proper donation could kneel at the altar built before Bhaelros's idol. A wall set twenty-five feet inside the Chosen Plaza blocked her view of the statue, as it would for all nonpay-ing callers. She peeked around the edge of the gateway, saw nothing unusual, and chose to go right. She stayed close to the stone wall and followed it another twenty feet before she reached the end and peered around its side. Sitting upon the space that once had contained the idol to Bhaelros-a god that would have been pleased with the strength and intensity of the storm wrapped around Calimport this night-was Vizier Bellophat's sprawling mass.
The monster did not look up. Bellophat's eyes were shut as it concentrated solely on its craft. It was as enraptured by its own music as the entire populace of the city had been. Myrmeen surrendered to the call of blood, allowing the berserker's rage she had been repressing to take control of her. She raced toward the seemingly helpless monstrosity. Suddenly, a dozen smaller creatures left their waiting shadows and converged on her. She was ten feet from Bellophat when they brought her down without any apparent exertion. Myrmeen screamed as she was overcome by the pack of abominations. Before her, Vizier Bellophat opened one lazy red eye, smiled, then closed it again.
Moments after Myrmeen had left Krystin and the young Harper, Magistrate Dymas and his son, Alden McGregor, had revealed themselves. They knew that by attacking the humans they would forfeit their chance to be a part of the grand procession, but Dymas was convinced that bringing his master the beating heart of a Harper would help cement his recent return to favor with Lord Sixx. He had thought of his years of exile, and the memories had spurred him on.
Alden crouched above Krystin's and Ord's heads. He was more monstrous than either of them had ever seen him. He leapt down and landed a few feet ahead of the humans, raising his claws in his father's direction. Despite his inhuman appearance, Alden was recognizable as having been the young, charming, flaxen-haired youth who had helped the humans inflict destruction on the night people.
'Father, please, no,' he said in a guttural voice. 'These are my friends. Don't make me.'
'Don't make you what?' Dymas asked, indignant. 'Harm them? Taste their blood. You know you want to.'
'Please,' Alden begged.
'Make your decision,' the flayed man said as he started to dance, his movements deliciously slow at first, then gaining in speed and complexity. 'It's them or us.'
The dance Magistrate Dymas performed held surprising beauty for the humans who suddenly found themselves unable to stay on their feet. Ord's head lolled back as he fell to the ground, trying to ward off the intense vertigo that gripped him. Krystin had looked away, catching Dymas's movements with only her peripheral vision. The sight had dropped her to her knees, but she regained her balance.
Alden was barely affected by his father's display, though his anger was causing his body to vibrate so quickly that he appeared to be in several places at once. Ghost images, blurs, remained in the spots he had vacated.
'You're no faster than I am,' Alden said.
'I'm not, am I?' Dymas said as he raced forward.
Krystin was barely able to glance to her left, where Ord lay, before it was over. From the corner of her eye, however, she saw everything. The flayed man moved in a blur, crossing the distance between Ord and himself, dancing past his son in the process. He took Ord's grasping hand and yanked the nineteen-year-old into the air, hoisting him above his head as if he were a rag doll. With blinding speed, Dymas snatched the Harper's short sword from his scabbard and impaled the young man. Ord choked and flailed, a cloud of blood exiting his mouth as Dymas held him high. Suddenly, the Harper stiffened and went limp.
The sound of steel piercing flesh came to Dymas from somewhere close and suddenly he did not have the strength to hold the Harper's body aloft. He registered the slight shove he had felt and looked down to see the hilt of a weapon jutting from his own chest. As he crumpled to his knees, Ord's dead weight collapsed upon him. The Harper's body snagged on the weapon in the flayed man's chest, inadvertently yanking the blade downward to slice again at his delicate organs. Dymas felt a cold, cruel delirium wash over him, and he caught sight of his killer: Krystin.
Dymas sank to the ground, his body tangled with the Harper's. The girl screamed and Alden helped to extricate Ord from his father's twitching form. Krystin shoved Alden out of the way and pressed her head against Ord's chest. There was no heartbeat. He was dead. Tears fell from her eyes as she wailed in grief and clutched at him.
Behind her, Alden's animal senses had been inflamed by the nearness of the blood, but his cherished humanity forced his growing feral nature to remain under control.
Finally, Krystin sat up. The part of her that had been a frustrated schoolgirl felt light-headed with shock. Ord's face was relaxed in death. Struggling to force away the emotions that crowded in on her, Krystin realized that the last of the Harpers to journey to Calimport was either dead or gone. By the time Reisz came back, provided he was not killed or grounded ashore by the storm, the morning would have come, and the Night Parade's Festival of Renewal would be at an end. The word renewal thundered in her mind.
'Have to find her,' Krystin murmured. 'The children, I understand about the children!'
Alden reached out, his claws coming inches from her flesh before he said, 'Before you go, there is something you must know, something about Tamara and Zeal.'
Krystin listened intently as Alden relayed what he had learned when he had spied on them in Shandower's lair. She looked away from him and glanced down at Ord's body. Krystin touched Ord's dead lips, then leaned down and kissed him. Then she whispered, 'Alden-'
'I won't leave him in the open,' Alden promised. 'I'll take care of it, then join you. Go!'
Krystin took one last look at Ord, then ran off, her boots splashing through deep puddles as the storm grew more intense, a wall of rain quickly obscuring her retreating form. Alden looked back to Ord's body, then froze as he saw that Dymas's no longer lay beside it.
'Good-bye,' a voice whispered from behind.
Alden tried to run, but he was too slow. A pair of hands gripped his wrists from behind and thrust Alden's claws deep into his own chest.
'Thank you, my son,' Dymas whispered. 'For what you've revealed, I'll make your death quick.'
Crying out with pain, Alden shuddered as his claws were ripped to either side of his body, tearing the cavity of his chest to pieces as blood sprayed upward, mixing with the rain. He fell facedown in a puddle that soon turned crimson. Ord's body was beside him. For a moment he thought he saw Ord move. The boy couldn't have survived a wound such as that, Alden thought. Or could he?
Alden was about to train his animal senses on the Harper when death came for him. He did not hear the slap of his father's bare feet on the pavement as the wounded man left to seek his master.
In the courtyard of the Chosen Plaza, Myrmeen shook off two of the creatures that had overwhelmed her. One had stalks rising from its flesh, with either tiny, piranhalike jaws protruding from the stalks or rapidly blinking eyes. The other had been a snake-woman she first had seen at Shandower's retreat. Myrmeen's grip on her sword had been tested, but she had not released the weapon. With a grunt, Myrmeen sliced off the top of the snake- woman's head. Then she turned and ran her blade through the monster with more eyes and teeth than it ever would need again. She screamed as she hacked away at another monster, a bony, balding man with a closed knot of flesh for a face, who was gripping her thigh. Whirling, she gutted an old man with pulsating gaps of flesh throughout his head.
The creatures that had brought her down had acted as a cohesive whole at first, exercising their great strength of numbers. After Myrmeen had dispatched several of them, the creatures stumbled over one another in their attempts to escape Myrmeen's wrath. They were not protectors, she realized, merely adoring worshipers of
