to feed. That, I believe, would be the point beyond which the wendigo nature would rule her and she would be lost to us and to God.'
' 'What about those who have died to feed the wendigo? And who might yet die? Do you feel the weight of their murders on your own soul?''
Before the priest could answer, Sam cut in. 'That's enough, Dodger!'
'Peace, Sam. Dodger was in England, too. We all let Janice leave. What she does or does not do is our shared responsibility. All of us. But the past is done and we must look to the future. We took no action against her in hope of her salvation, a salvation that we work toward now. That is what must concern us. Have you given more thought to the ritual site?'
'I thought we'd settled that. You said that the ritual needs a place of power, one associated with change, and Mount Rainier seems ideal. As one of the volcanoes activated by the Ghost Dancers, it was one of the first places where heavy-duty magical power manifested in the Sixth World. The Indians' campaign to rid North America of non-Indians wasn't successful, but it was one of die biggest changes of the century. Only the return of magic and magical beings was bigger, and the Ghost Dance was part of that, too.'
Rinaldi shook his head. 'I find no fault with your symbolic logic, and the site is indeed a place of power. But I still think that a place more convenient to Jan-ice's refuge would be safer. She must be physically present for the ritual to work.'
'Still worried about the temptation to her wendigo nature among people?' Hart asked. Rinaldi nodded.
'It's a chance I'm willing to take,' Sam said. 'She's strong. She'll deal with it.'
Rinaldi sighed. 'You may be willing, Sam. What about her? It's her soul that will be tainted if she's not strong enough.'
'Here or there, she has to agree to participate,' Hart said. She held out Sam's fringed synthleather jacket. The long tassels shifted restlessly, jangling the assorted amulets tied to them.
Sam reached out and fingered some of the intricate knots. 'I'm not going out. At least not physically.'
'Mindset,' she reminded him. 'You're doing sha-manistic things, and this is your shaman suit, right?' 'Right. Worried?'
She ran her fingers through his beard. 'This is a major projection you're planning. You haven't tried contacting anyone on the mundane while projecting before. You may need the help of the little friends in the jacket.''
He was touched by her concern. As usual, she was thinking ahead. He gave her a kiss and put on the jacket.
Dodger cleared his throat. 'Struth, I am as necessary here as a mirror to a medusa. If you would not be overly distressed to lose such a valued member of your audience, I might attend to other matters.'
Now that they were actually doing something, Sam felt more charitable toward Dodger. 'Null perspiration. Don't get into anything you can't handle alone.' 'Jenny's gotten her hands on a new Korean icecut-ter, Dodger. She's going to test it on a run tonight. Maybe she'd like some company.'
'Fair Jenny is a big girl. She has no need of my supervision. The Matrix holds other matters of more interest. Render unto her my best wishes,' Dodger said as he opened the door.
Hart waited a few moments before commenting, 'He's awfully preoccupied still. Teresa?'
Sam shrugged. 'Who knows? He hasn't mentioned her for months.'
'He hasn't said much of anything for months. At least nothing of importance. But it's clear that something is bothering him.'
'Perhaps he finds it a strain to work with both you and that other group you've told me about, the one run by Sally Tsung,' Rinaldi suggested.
Sam gave a rueful chuckle. 'That's not the problem. Sally's got almost as little use for Dodger these days as she does for me.'
For a moment Hart looked ready to comment, but she didn't. In private Hart had little good to say about the way Sally vilified Sam for his alleged fickleness, but in public she refrained from speaking against Tsung herself. Sam was sure he would hear about it later. 'You need me?' Gray Otter asked. Sam answered, 'Magic time, Otter. No need for muscle.'
'I'm gone.' And she was.
'Brother Paulus and I shall leave as well, Father Pietro. As you know, this ill-disciplined shamanic business makes me uncomfortable. You will join us at Saint Sebastian's?'
'As soon as we finish.'
'Very well.' Mark turned to Sam. 'I wish you luck.'
The brothers left. Sam locked the door behind them before lying down with his head in Hart's lap. Father Rinaldi took the drum from its cupboard, seated himself out of Sam's sight, and began to play. The beat was strong, steady. Sam felt Hart extend herself, using her power to relax his body. He released his astral self to fly down the tunnel and through the hole to the other world, beginning the journey north.
Joining the kulpunya, Urdli stared down at its victim. The small man was torn beyond recognition. His blood spattered the disordered furnishings and spread in a growing pool around his body. Urdli didn't know who the man was. It didn't matter; he had paid for his crime.
Urdli looked for the missing stones with his deep sight. He detected a hint of power from a locked box, hidden in a hollow in the wall. He tossed aside the dresser screening the badly patched panel and tore open the cache. He didn't care if he left traces. A simple spell blasted the padlock open.
The guardian stone was not there.
Recovering the stone was not going to be so simple.
With a word, he unleashed the kulpunya again. There were two more thieves to be hunted down.
He was cramped by the confines of the ducting, but that didn't particularly bother Neko Noguchi. His training had inured him to discomfort. This once, his small size had proven an unmatchable asset. No dwarf could have done what he had done tonight; dwarfs were too stocky to negotiate the twists and turns of the ducting. No elf either. Elves might have the necessary slimness, but they were too tall for the tighter turns of the ducting. Nor could an ork or a troll hope to squeeze through where a norm couldn't pass. Neko's passport into these forbidden realms had been his short stature, slight build, and rubbery suppleness. Who said norms were outmoded in the Sixth World?
The tall corporate was leaving now, walking up the stairs. The old woman continued to work at her loom. They never knew Neko was here, listening. He was glad now for the decision to leave all electronic devices behind. When the suit was descending the stairs Neko had seen the flicker of an electromagnetic emissions detector, and again as the man had left. He was sure similar sensors watched the ducts. Yet he had evaded the defenses that had blocked other hopefuls even without any high-tech tools or cyberware. Betting on his personal skills alone had been a calculated risk, but it had paid off.
Neko had crouched in his hidden place all through Grandmother's last three interviews. But none had been as interesting as the one with the black-haired corporate; the others had only brought news of the shadow world of Hong Kong. Save for the business about Mitsuhama hiring Greerson for a sanction, Neko's own prowls had already earned him the rest of the news he had heard today. If whispered in the right ear, the Greerson info would be worth something.
But the suit. What was his name? Saito? No, Sato. That was it. Neko would have to remember that name.
Sato was playing in a bigger arena. All that stuff about an AI. Neko had decker friends who would know what that stuff was worth. If he stepped carefully, he could turn all that innuendo and speculation into nuyen.
What a coup! His first time eavesdropping on the infamous Grandmother, and he had scored. That would make his name in the shadows. Neko Noguchi was on his way to becoming a big man in the biz.
But he was no fool to waste this opportunity. With absolutely no hint that he had been detected, he could afford to stay for a while longer. No telling what else he might learn.
He settled himself to wait for Grandmother's next visitor. The rhythmic clatter of the loom had an almost hypnotic quality that lulled him. His mind drifted, dreaming of the juicy bits he would gather while listening in on the doings of Grandmother. Then he started back to full awareness, unsure of what had changed.
Grandmother continued her weaving. No one had come to disturb her. But there was something. Yes, there it
