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Nagi said nothing as his captors stared at him in dislike, wishing only that Schuldig had prevailed upon Crawford and had taken him safely away with them. He felt it unwise to look too openly at the women, and gazed downward at the carpet beneath his feet, concentrating with all his mind on its intricate pattern in blue and gold, as if such distractions would furnish him any defence against persons raised in the Schloß. Williams, the taller of the women, walked around him as if inspecting a piece of furniture, or so Nagi surmised, for all he saw of her were her feet.

"How could you be so foolish?" cried Williams in the German tongue. "How could you give Maria to Crawford and that nameless creature?"

"Come now," said Andersson, "you are too concerned – how will they dare to harm her when we have an asset of theirs? Did you not see Schuldig's concern for the boy? They will wish to retrieve him unharmed."

"They could do anything they please to her, and he could make her forget!"

"Why," said Andersson in irritation, "then it is as if they have done nothing at all. Be sensible, Ellen, and do not complain so before this boy, for he understands German, do you not, Nagi?"

Nagi swallowed, and stared with even more concentration at the floor, until a hand roughly grasped his chin and forced him to look up.

"Answer," said Williams. Her face was set and angry, and even without the uncanny sense of what people felt, Nagi could see she was eager to find a point upon which she could exercise her fear and fury.

"I understand German more easily than I speak it," he said, "Crawford said I should first learn English -"

"He should have started with German," said Andersson in a tone that brooked no dissent. "That is the language of the Schloß, and would be of more use to you. Do you think that all of us whom you shall meet speak English, child?" Without waiting for an answer, she sat once more upon her chair and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, a gesture that made her seem all at once younger and less majestic to Nagi's eyes."How dear is this girl to you, Ellen?" she asked.

"I will not abandon her to them," Williams said, worry on her bruised face. "Karin, do not think I will."

"In two days we could be far from here," said Andersson. "Whether we left the boy behind, killed him, or took him with us as a gamepiece."

"But Maria-" said Williams.

"I – I can break your necks with a thought," said Nagi, trying to still his heart from its sudden racing. He must, he thought, keep fear from his face, for he could well see that the women were like his friends in one way, and would despise cowardice from one whom they saw as superior to the common crowd. "Crawford would not let you run, and Schuldig would be very angry if you hurt me; he would chase you and not hold back when he found you."

"I see you have some spirit," said Andersson. "Is Schuldig really so fond of you?"

"Yes," said Nagi without hesitation, "he is."

"Such a child," said Andersson with a tiny smile. "You give information without compulsion." She stood and strode towards him, and slapped his cheek. "Do not threaten me in my own house," she said coldly.

Nagi cried out and raised a hand to his face, finding it sore and hot. Shame washed over him at his foolishness, and he felt anger spark within him. He would cause them some hurt in repayment he thought, but then the shame grew too great for him to move, and he merely stared down at the floor once more, tears in his eyes.

"Let that be the first lesson, child," said Andersson. "Do not give more than necessary and do not try to bluff those who know your thoughts or emotions better than you yourself." She turned from him and frowned at Williams. "Go and wash, you cannot be seen like that. I will lock the boy away for the night, and then we may speak more freely."

"Very well," said Williams shortly, her voice uneven and angry. "Do not take your time."

"I shall take all the time I wish," said Andersson in a warning tone. "Come, Nagi." She gestured and indicated he should follow her, leading him from the sitting room with its bright carpet and dark furniture and down a hallway to a flight of stairs. Nagi followed her down the stairs, still in a shamed daze, barely noticing the plainer rooms through which he was led. "Here," said Andersson, opening a door at the end of the corridor. "Wait."

Nagi went in to the dark room and looked at the bare, windowless walls in misery. He could not imagine Crawford returning for such a useless, stupid boy, and thought that he would have to stay with Andersson for ever. He was not sure how long he had stood there when he heard a noise behind him and turned to see her, a blanket and a plate of bread and meat in her hands.

"You'll be returned in the state he last saw you, if he doesn't betray my trust," said Andersson. "Take these. Sleep on the floor."

Nagi felt a little of the fog of shame and misery lift, and he obediently took the food and blanket. There was nowhere else to sleep, he saw; there was no furniture at all in the room. The door was heavy and had a bolt on the outside, but he was sure it would be no trouble for him to smash it to splinters. "What if one of your maids comes in?" he said. "What shall I say to her?"

"No one will come in," said Andersson. "No one enters this room by their own will." She smiled, at once the lovely creature Nagi remembered from the ball. "If I had somewhere more comfortable, I would put you there. Now, be good – do not your friends wish you to be brave and wait for Crawford's return? Do not jeopardise this alliance your friend seeks – that would not be the mark of a prudent man who can follow orders, and Crawford very much likes his subordinates to follow orders."

She closed the door and Nagi heard the bolt shoot home. He gingerly sat against the wall and made himself eat the food, pretending to himself that he heard Crawford tell him it would not be rational to starve himself and so become weak. Then he rolled himself in the blanket and wept himself to sleep.

Crawford looked at no one as the cab driver urged his horse on, eager to relieve himself of his unnerving passengers. It was insupportable, thought Crawford, that Schuldig should so have challenged him before another who had been in the Schloß. If they had still been imprisoned behind its high walls he would have had to beat Schuldig severely to retain his authority. Andersson must think me weak, he thought, and ground his teeth in anger. He looked at the others finally, as a bitten-off word from Schuldig drew his attention, to see that Farfarello had hit the mind reader to stop whatever it was he had been about to say. The girl they had taken as hostage lay on the floor of the carriage between them, and Crawford found he wished for nothing more than to set the heel of his boot upon her throat and grind down until both his frustration and her life were extinguished.

“It is good to see you have some human feeling left to you,” sniffed Schuldig. “Ah!” he ejaculated as Farfarello struck him once more.

“Shut up,” said Farfarello. “Can you not keep quiet for even a moment?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” snapped Schuldig, and raised his fist to strike back as Farfarello hit him yet again.

“Both of you! Be silent!” roared Crawford, and as the carriage slowed the better for the driver to eavesdrop, “Drive on, man!” That his commands were obeyed did not, he found, lessen his anger, and when the hotel was reached he stalked in ahead of the others, leaving them to pay the driver or not. When he entered the rooms he shared with Schuldig he looked about in dissatisfaction, thinking how foolish it was to need a suite, and that he had given in far too often to the mind reader’s whims and desire to be spoilt. He turned to face the door the moment before the others arrived, and gestured to the chaise longue. “Put her there.”

Farfarello obeyed, dropping the girl upon the cushions where she lay awkwardly, one leg caught beneath her. “I see no point in speaking to either of you,” said Farfarello in tones of disgust. “I will see you in the morning, and perhaps both of you will have remembered you are men, not fools of boys.” He turned on his heel and went out, slamming the door behind him with such force that the wall shook, leaving both Crawford and Schuldig staring after him.

“Well,” said Schuldig. “Tonight is, it seems, a trying time for all of us.” He turned to Crawford with a sigh. “I apologise,” he said.

“What?” said Crawford, finding himself taken aback.

“I can, it seems, surprise you,” said Schuldig with a humourless smile. “I apologise. If I had not challenged you, you would not have felt compelled to show your authority as you did. How may I best show my remorse?”

“You are attempting to manipulate me,” said Crawford in distrust.

“Not as much as you suppose,” sighed Schuldig. “I am tired, Crawford, of the sorrows your past has wished upon us and had hoped, foolishly as it seems, that all would be made well the moment we set foot on earth once more, yet we have been flung into more trouble. Brad, what shall we do?”

Mollified by the apology, Crawford felt himself unstiffen a little from his anger. There was, he mused, some truth in the views on the excitable nature of mind readers, even though Schuldig normally kept such mercurial qualities under control. Watching Schuldig restrain himself from making a retort to that thought, Crawford found his anger draining away, leaving him tired and unhappy, and very regretful of his earlier actions. He had given Andersson too great an asset, he thought, for Nagi was of so much more worth than Williams’ friend. He felt something like cold water, as it were, trickling within him and knew the creeping sense of shame as he remembered Nagi’s face when they left. Such thoughts were of no use, he knew, and served only to hamper lesser men in the achievement of ambitions. Things that were done were done, and they had to work with what they had. Nagi would understand, he thought, when he had had a chance to explain it to him. “We shall do as I said,” he said. “Train the girl to be of some use, and hope that Andersson does the same for Nagi.”

“Crawford,” said Schuldig carefully, “What if Nagi has been hurt? They will surely assume we have done something to the girl.”

“We shall get him back unharmed, I am sure - Andersson has given me hostages before,” said Crawford. “She has, I think, honour - as much as anyone could, trained within the Schloß.” He grimaced. “As much as they tried to beat such fancies as honour from us, we kept reinventing them. A hazard of childhood, perhaps.”

“In the Schloß she was not a woman who thought you had threatened her children,” said Schuldig. “Women have little honour in such cases.” He looked aside. “I know that the topic of Andersson and children is perhaps one you do not wish to discuss - but if she perhaps resents -” he said more diffidently, his reluctance to discuss private matters of which Crawford had never spoken aloud clear in his queerly awkward tone.

“I did not hurt her, why should she resent me?” said Crawford, frowning.

Schuldig looked at him sidelong, as if unsure he had heard right. “Why, indeed?” he said at last with some irony. “Tell me at least you have truly foreseen no danger to Nagi.”

“None,” said Crawford.

Schuldig heaved a sigh. “Then let us sleep. I will make sure our guest does not disturb anyone.” So saying he went into the bedroom and emerged with rope he had taken from their bags. It was but the work of a few minutes for him to tie her hands together and then her ankles. Finally he put hand upon her forehead, looking at her in concentration and all her limbs fell more limply as she sank into deeper unconsciousness. “Let us go to bed,” he said, his voice resigned, “and tomorrow I shall see what I can do with this creature.”

Nagi awoke as the bolt on the door was slid back, and he blinked up at the figure silhouetted against the light of the corridor.

“Get up,” said Williams, and stood there glaring at him while he sleepily rubbed his eyes and crept from beneath his blanket. “Come with me,” she said when he stood before her, unsure and hungry. “If you give me trouble be assured that I will burn you.”

Nagi silently left the room and walked before her, head bowed in exhaustion and misery. ”Oh,” he though to cheer himself, ”I am sure that I could overpower her if I needed to, but it would not suit Crawford’s designs. That is why I shall not do anything yet, not because I afraid, as if I were just a little child.” So thinking, he raised his head and tried to seem as blithe as would Schuldig in such circumstances. “Is it time for breakfast?” he asked, as cheekily as he could, then gasped as without warning Williams shoved him hard, so that he hit painfully against a door jamb. He bit his lip and did not cry out, although the side of his face felt tender, and did not say another word until they had ascended the stairs and he was pushed ungently into a room that proved to be a dining room. Andersson sat at the head of a table of gleaming mahogany, a coffee cup in her hand. Nagi looked at the snow white cloth laid across the end of the table, seeing two other cups and saucers laid out, with small plates beside them.

“Sit,” said Andersson, and Nagi warily obeyed, perching upon the very edge of his chair as Williams went to the sideboard and picked up two plates, returning to the table with them. “Must we clutter the table so?” said Andersson, looking at the plate of bread rolls, then delicately picked one up and tore it into small pieces, eating them slowly. After a pause in which he watched the women eat, Nagi took a roll for himself and cut it open to spread thickly with the butter and fruit preserves that had sat waiting on the table. The other plate had pastries, he saw, and he took one of those as well and then, although he did not like coffee in the slightest, he poured himself a cup and drank it without grimacing, in the hopes that he should appear more adult. “Oh, and only yesterday I wished to be a little boy,” he thought unhappily, and quickly drank more coffee, letting the bitter taste distract him.

“Are you always so hungry?” asked Andersson, as Nagi took another two rolls and the largest pastry left upon the plate.

“I am growing,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster, and ate his food quickly.

“It is because you need the energy for your power,” said Williams, and seized the last pastries quickly. “Like that she-wolf Albrecht,” she said to Andersson.

“Yes,” mused Andersson, watching them both eye the final bread roll. “Some powers leave one in more need of sustenance than others.”

“Who is Albrecht?” asked Nagi, sighing as Williams took the prize, but feeling that he should gain as much intelligence for Crawford as he could.

“They have not told you much,” said Williams in a vulgar manner through a full mouth. “She is one of the instructors in the Schloß. She’s like you, a scrawny little thing that can throw heavy objects around.”

Andersson drank another cup of coffee, and place her cup soundlessly down upon the saucer. She rose and gestured to the others. “Let us begin. I said I’d train him for Crawford, and we have scant time.”

Nagi reluctantly stood, feeling he did not want to be taught anything by his captors, and that now he had been fed he stood a better chance of destroying them should they attack him. “What are you going to teach me?” he asked.

Andersson looked silently at him for a moment, then said, “You should address me as “Madame Bouchard”.”

“I don’t call any of my friends “Sir” or “Mister”,” said Nagi, more confidently than he in truth felt. “If you and Crawford are to make an alliance, I shouldn’t have to call you “Madame”, and he calls you Andersson, not Bouchard, so I shall too. Or, or if you insist on being “Madame” to me, then you must call me Naoe-san,” he said, his voice dying away at the end as he saw the expressions upon both the women’s faces. He kept his own face as still as he could, though he could not help feeling afraid. It was only when the fear within him swelled and made him gasp for air that he was aware of the peril he now faced. Andersson regarded him calmly as he felt his heart hammer within his breast as if he had come face to face with his worst nightmare and could do nothing to save himself. He found his throat constricted with the awful fear and utter panic began to rise within him. “I’m sorry!” he gasped and the panic rose higher yet, suddenly to leave him, letting him clutch a chair back for support as his knees buckled.

“You have heard, I suppose, of those who have died of fright,” said Andersson conversationally. “It is not as quick a process as one might believe. It is natural to test boundaries, child, but you will not be so disrespectful to me again. Now, come.”

“Yes, Madame,” Nagi whispered. He walked after her, Williams behind him, and obediently followed her back down the stairs and to the windowless room in which he had slept.

“If you would, Williams,” said Andersson politely, and Williams nodded, leaving them. Andersson stood quietly, her hands folded before her, as Nagi regarded her warily. At last he heard noises as of feet approaching, and a despairing voice whose words could not be distinguished, but whose unhappiness was clear.

“Non, non, s’il vous plâit,” the voice said, and Williams stood in the doorway once more, a struggling girl grasped firmly by the wrist. “Non!” gasped the girl, resisting entering the room, until Williams swung her bodily off her feet and over the threshold. She gasped out a string of pleading French, her terrified eyes fixed upon Andersson, weeping as she imploringly held up her hands. She was wearing, Nagi saw, a maid’s uniform, though it was filthy and bedraggled, as if she had worn it somewhere dirty for a long time.

“Who is she?” asked Nagi in distaste and worry.

“One of the maids,” said Andersson. “She broke a glass figurine I was fond of. You will practice on her.”

Nagi looked at the weeping girl, seeing that she was younger than he had first realised, and misgivings arose within him. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” he said. “There was a lot of disturbance last night.”

“Oh,” said Andersson in an off-hand manner, “she broke it some weeks ago. Do not worry, child, no one shall rebuke you. I have sent the other servants away for the day, we are quite private. Begin by lifting her up - her weight should not trouble you, should it?”

“I - no,” said Nagi. “She doesn’t look very heavy.” At Andersson’s expectant gesture he raised a hand and the girl lifted a little into the air. She shrieked and flapped her arms wildly in a way Nagi would have thought amusing if she had not already been so very scared. He lowered her to the floor again and Andersson frowned.

“Lift her again. Higher and faster.”

Nagi obeyed, raising the girl right up to the ceiling, so that she had to bend her neck. She screamed in fear, weeping loudly and beating at the air with her hands. The sound was piercing, yet Nagi found himself pleased, for it would surely keep his captors’ minds focused upon her rather than on him. Andersson walked around her, looking up dispassionately.

“There is little room for other than terror in her mind,” she said approvingly, as Nagi became aware that the maid had soiled herself and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Now, child - change her mood.”

“What?” asked Nagi.

“Calm her - make her feel joy, or pleasure. Something other than terror,” said Andersson, and, as the girl began to sink down as Nagi’s attention was diverted, “No, keep her in the air. You must learn to do more than one thing at a time.”

Nagi licked his lips, thinking the task was impossible. Then he imagined himself lying, as he had lain for so many nights on Mars, safe and warm between his friends, protected from both harm and cold and how happy he had been to be there. He thought about it as hard as he could, and Andersson sighed.

“You cast your net too wide,” she said. “You need not effect a change in Williams or me - as if you could - simply in her. This is a weapon for you - aim.”

“I am trying,” said Nagi through gritted teeth, perspiration upon his little face. If the girl screamed much longer he should develop a headache, he thought in petulant irritation.

“Try harder,” said Andersson implacably.

Schuldig held his head, thinking he would forget himself and do irreparable damage to their captive before much longer. All morning she had screamed and attempted to flee whenever he had so much as released his control upon her mind to the slightest degree. It was, he told himself, infuriating, more than a man could be expected to endure. “If it were not for Nagi’s sake,” he thought, “I would strip her mind down to nothing and enjoy it.” He stretched and walked about the room, thinking of all he would do to her if he but had a free hand. Then he turned back and stood her up upon her feet as if she were no more than a large doll for him to manipulate.

“Let us try again,” he said in false bonhomie. “I will let your mind go, and you, dear Maria, will do as I say. Are you ready?” He released his hold on her mind and watched as she swayed, no longer held unnaturally upright. A brief spark flashed in her eyes and she slapped his face. Schuldig seized her in fury, his mood becoming no better as Crawford opened the door before he had had the chance to hit her more than once.

“Enough,” said Crawford. “We said we should not harm her.”

“She slapped me!”

“And you have shown her you will hit back. Enough. You, Maria, you will fight no more. Do you understand?”

The girl panted, hanging her head low. She looked up through her disarranged hair at Crawford in fear. “Please, let me go.” She flinched as Crawford came up to her and lifted her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him fully in the face.

“Soon,” he said. “For now, you will listen to Schuldig. If you do not, he will not wait any longer for your compliance and will simply write upon your mind as if it were a child’s slate. Do not think he cannot. Do you understand?” She nodded, fearfully, and Crawford smiled. “You simply do not know how to speak with ladies, Schuldig,” he said pleasantly. Silently he thought, in the sure knowledge that Schuldig would hear him, “Come now, can you do nothing with her?”

“Nothing she would like,” thought Schuldig in annoyance. He scowled as Crawford stepped over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “She complained that I filled her mind with obscenities!” thought Schuldig. “I said barely anything!” Crawford squeezed his shoulder and Schuldig leant into the touch, thinking he would like so much to be done with all people in the world but those whom he loved. “I will be good,” he promised in his queer, silent communication. “I will not destroy her mind.”

“Good,” thought Crawford. “We will retrieve Nagi. Do not worry, trust me.”

“When have I ever not?” thought Schuldig in mendacious solemnity. “Go on, let me get back to work.”

Crawford nodded and stepped back. “Obey him, or we give you to Farfarello,” he said to the girl, and left. Schuldig grinned at the way her thoughts went blank and still, like a small creature that thinks it may evade a serpent by hiding. She had not, he knew, enjoyed the visit Farfarello had paid them earlier, even though the young Irishman had done no more than sit and play with his knives as he watched her.

“Liebe Maria,” he crooned, a measure of good humour restored by her fear, “let us try once again. If you don’t like hearing what I have to say, then learn to keep me out.” He poured poison into her mind once more and laughed as she scrubbed at her face and body with her hands as if she would wash his thoughts from her. “How useless you are!” he said, stepping lightly around her as she sank to the floor, sobbing. “You have barely more power than one of the common herd, and all that has been diverted into learning to please your precious Ellen. Though I must admit the images are,” he smiled spitefully, “picturesque.” He paused, looking down at her in renewed interest as she mastered herself a little and thought of Williams, just an image of her friend cutting a loaf of bread and then she recited in her mind a childish rhyme, some English nonsense about a girl with a pet lamb. Over and over the girl showed him the same image and repeated the rhyme, though she quickly seemed to forget all but the first line. Schuldig made a little moue, and sat upon a chair, crossing his legs and watching her to see how long she could maintain such an attempt. Her attention wandered soon enough, as he suspected, without her being fully aware. “That’s not much of a defence,” he said conversationally. “You weren’t even doing anything behind it, all your mind was taken up with the words and picture. At least you tried, even if such an attempt would have been swept away by the littlest of children trained in the Schloß. Pretty little mind readers learn quickly, there.” He closed his eyes and smiled as she looked cautiously upwards, thinking she might have some chance if he were distracted. “Haven’t you understood yet? It doesn’t matter if I can see you or not. I am a mind reader, girl. As are you, though you barely merit the name. Bring over the other chair and sit facing me.” He strengthened his command with a compulsion to do as he said, and opened his eyes as she sat, her reddened eyes fixed on his face. “Take my hand,” he said, holding out the aforementioned member.

She looked at his hand with as much mistrust as if it were some venomous creature. “Does it matter if you touch me?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“Ah,” ejaculated Schuldig, “a sensible question at last! So much better than “Shall you hurt me?” Sensible questions are answered - sometimes it would matter, yes. It does not with you because you cannot erect any proper defences and I was already deep within your mind when you tried to defend yourself. It is not a good strategy to wall yourself in with me. Take my hand.” She reluctantly reached out and placed her hand on his, not resisting as he tightened his fingers. “It is in actuality a necessary thing to render the mind of the student malleable and open,” he said, “I was not being arbitrary in my cruelty. I suppose fear and disgust are not the only methods that would be efficacious, but,” he shrugged, “we pass on what we know. Now, a simple training exercise. Close your eyes. I want you to imagine you are building a wall, brick by brick, up from the ground. The ground, Maria. Picture the d---ed ground, walls don’t float in mid-air, you don’t have that power.” He cast his eyes to heaven as she imagined a brick hitting him on the head. “Keep concentrating on building that wall,” he said sweetly, “or you’ll see some of my really memorable schoolboy experiences.”

With a little gasp of fear, she renewed her efforts to obey.

“Please,” said Nagi, “may I sleep?” He felt ill and very tired, and thought he should like nothing more than to curl up upon the floor and close his eyes until the end of the world. He looked wearily around the room and noted he was no longer in the bare room downstairs, but had somehow come back to the sitting room, where he stood, swaying with exhaustion, upon the very centre of the thick carpet.

“Do you not know how much time has passed? You did sleep, twice,” said Andersson.

“Oh. I did not remember,” said Nagi in a small, thin voice. “That girl - should I practise more? Where is she?”

“Do not concern yourself with her,” said Andersson. “Nagi, open your eyes, I am speaking to you.”

“Yes,” said Nagi in a vague manner, “I’m awake.”

“You’ll be exchanged for Williams’ friend today,” said Andersson, and Nagi found himself suddenly quite awake, as if ice-cold water had been dashed in his face. She smiled at his alert demeanour, though Nagi noted the smile was not the pleasant one she wore for the outside world. “You love them,” she said. “It is truly remarkable, you do not fear them at all. I should never have thought that Bradley Crawford would grow to be the kind of man who excites such innocent passions.”

“Why would I be afraid of my friends?” cried Nagi. “They have only ever been nice to me, and once I came to know them it would have been very silly to fear them.” He kept within himself the fact that when he had first met his friends he had indeed been frightened of them, and terrified of their supernatural powers. “They are not bad men - Crawford does only what is necessary, and makes sure Schuldig and Farfarello do likewise.”

“Such words as “bad” and “good” are meaningless when applied to men and women,” said Andersson. “There is only what is of benefit to one and what is not. You shall sleep now, and when Williams has returned from the bakery, we shall eat. I will not return you starving and useless.” She rose from her chair and indicated he should sit in another low arm chair. ”Sit. I do not think you will need me to calm you to aid you in sleeping.”

“No,” murmured Nagi, and caught himself. “No, Madame,” he said, and sat. Within moments he was deeply and dreamlessly asleep, his face tucked into a corner of the chair.

“Crawford!” cried Schuldig, “let us go at once and free Nagi from the company of those dreadful creatures! What boy could bear to spend time in the company of women? It is quite unnatural!”

“Yes, yes,” said Crawford, for although he was quite as eager as his friend to be reunited with the lad, he felt it beneath his dignity to admit to such a thing. “I have already sent a telegram to Andersson, suggesting a time and place in which to meet. For now let us finish our breakfast in peace.”

“Why should we not merely enter her house and take what we want?” inquired Farfarello, pouring himself another cup of tea before stabbing the croissant upon his plate until it was no more than shreds of pastry.

“An excellent question,” exclaimed Schuldig.

“All in good time,” said Crawford, and, although he had seen no vision concerning the meeting, added, “you know I am well suited to tell you when it is advantageous to cause trouble and when to avoid it.” So saying, he feigned indifference to the topic, devoting his attention instead to the kippers he was eating. At last he could endure the agitation of the others no more, and, seizing upon their excitement as a cover for his own desires for activity, abruptly stood from the table. As he rose he felt a vision over come him, and was already half-way to the door of the hotel dining room when the post officer messenger entered, a telegram in his hand. “I am Bradley Crawford,” said Crawford, before the youth could so much as look about him for a waiter to direct him to the person he sought. “You have a telegram for me?”

“Yes,Monsieur,” said the messenger in surprise, holding the telegram out.

“There will be a response,” said Crawford, reading it rapidly. He noted with approval that the messenger already had his pad out, his pencil poised. Quickly, Crawford dictated his answer to the message, and handed the youth the payment for the reply. Then, turning to his friends he said, “Let us prepare. We shall make the exchange at noon.” So saying, he went swiftly from the room, followed by the others, Schuldig in some excitement asking silently, “Shall we trap them? You are sure Nagi will be unharmed? Will he be pleased to see us?”

“Must we leave the women alive?” asked Farfarello wistfully, his use of the English tongue mercifully obscuring the content of his query from an elderly lady and her companion who descended the stair as he and the others ascended.

“Yes,” said Crawford, “unless they fight us with intent to kill.”

“Let us hope,” muttered Farfarello.

At the appointed hour they set forth, Crawford hailing a cab, and directing the driver to take them at once to the Jardin des Plantes. He sat beside Schuldig, paying no heed to the manner in which Maria shrank against the side of the carriage on the seat opposite. “Do not interfere,” he said. “I do not want to start a conflict with people I wish to enlist to our cause.”

“Enlist no one,” said Schuldig. “Let us simply flee, Crawford. We will vanish like the morning mist and live quietly.”

“Though I find the words strange to say, I agree with Schuldig,” said Farfarello. “If indeed he could live a peaceful and boring life.”

“Live quietly?” exclaimed Crawford. “They had Micah hunt me across the aether! If they had not done so, perhaps even now we would be living in idleness on Mars, of dwindling interest to those who were our masters. They show far too much interest, however - do you think they will not hunt us again? We must force them to leave us in peace, as I have said.”

Schuldig and Farfarello exchanged glances, then Farfarello shrugged. “I shall let Schuldig do the talking,” he said. “I’ll kill whomever you wish.”

“Crawford,” said Schuldig, and, taking his friend’s hand, went on silently, “your plans seemed somehow more feasible when we were so very far from Schloß Rosenkreuz - they seem less so now. There are four of us, Crawford, four. Even if you enlist the help of Andersson and Williams, we are but six - I do not count that little chit opposite as any help whatsoever. Let us flee; let us all flee.”

“I will leave nothing of mine in their hands,” thought Crawford, and looked down as Schuldig’s fingers tightened about his. “I know you do not see things the same way, but I cannot, Schuldig. It would be letting them win.”

“Brad,” thought Schuldig. “It is not your fault, what they made of Micah. It is not your fault that he had to die. You cannot save everyone and everything from them. For every man and woman that passed through their hands and hates them and wishes for freedom, there are ten that hate them yet willingly obey. If you must honour alliances made when you were a boy, do so - let the women flee as far as they may. And us too.”

“If they had your sister, and used her as they did Micah, and set her to kill you, what would you do?” thought Crawford.

“I don’t even remember my sister’s name,” thought Schuldig in annoyance. “I see her only in dreams - if I had passed her every day in the Schloß I would not have known her.” He looked at Crawford’s expectant face and sighed. “Very well - I was taught as well as you not to give an inch, and to take revenge for the slightest insult. I suppose I would do something in such a case. If I knew of it.” He sat closer to Crawford, thinking, “As you know of what they did, you must respond, I know. Your pride will not allow anything else. Try to leave us alive by the end of it.”

“We will all live,” said Crawford aloud.

“A vision?” asked Farfarello.

“Arrogance,” said Crawford with a thin smile. “Is that not a virtue in which we were schooled?” He looked out of the carriage and said, “We are here.” He stepped from the carriage, leaving the others to pay, and walked to the place where Andersson’s telegram had specified, seeing her waiting calmly for him. He did not look about him in order to locate Nagi, feeling that such obvious care would weaken him in her eyes. Before he drew level with her she turned and walked leisurely away, leaving him to lengthen his stride behind her.

Gaining the place beside her without appearing overly hurried, Crawford strolled with her past flowerbeds still hiding their colours behind winter coats of green, and entered the Jardin des Plantes’ labyrinth, feeling some measure of grim amusement both at how she had not waited for him and at how, no doubt, her choice of meeting place hinted at womanly history and pursuits, reminding him of the famous Labyrinth of the ancient world and the place of women in the land of its creation. “Let us hope,” he thought, for Schuldig to hear, “that no monster more fearsome than we ourselves lurks within.” Andersson looked at him,no doubt catching the flicker of humour in his breast, and he smiled politely, glad to have been the first to have won some reaction from the other.

“A gentleman, Crawford,” she said, “would offer a lady his arm.”

“Why, so such a mythical being would do,” said Crawford, doing just that. Other men looked at him in some envy as they passed, he saw, thinking him no doubt lucky to have such a lovely creature on his arm. “Fools,” he thought, dismissing them as unworthy of further notice. They were soon lost to his view behind the high, thick hedges of the maze, and he and Andersson were alone.

“Did your mind reader train the girl?” asked Andersson, the abruptness of the query well showing the masculine traits inculcated in the girls of the Schloß, so far removed from the sweet prevarications of the natural female speech.

“In some defence at least,” said Crawford, feeling within himself that it was unbecoming of Andersson to display anxiety on behalf of such a worthless creature as Schuldig proclaimed Maria to be, even if she were the friend of Andersson’s old ally and lieutenant. “She is old to start training.”

“As is your young friend,” replied Andersson. “Though he seems at least to have been aware of his powers from an early age and has tried both to use and not to use them. Williams tells me Maria did not even know she could read minds, ascribing her insights to her gentle, female nature. Hah!” she ejaculated, “what a mess you have caused, Crawford. Why did you come here, in truth?”

“I seek to be free, as I told you,” said Crawford. “Revenge, too. Do you not wish to take a measure of satisfaction for what was done to you?”

“I wish never again to have to see that place or the vile beasts that stalk within its walls,” said Andersson. “Revenge be d---ed. I do as I am bid, and I am let be.”

“And if they bid you relinquish your children to them, as you thought was my purpose?” pressed Crawford.

“You already know,” she said in a low voice, her lovely face set in anger.

They walked on in silence a while, each lost in their thoughts. Then Crawford said, “Why were you going to wait for punishment? If you had indeed slain your children rather than give them up, why leave yourself alive when you know how disobedience would be met?”

“I suppose some habit from my youth still lay within me,” said Andersson. She stopped and looked Crawford full in the face. “And I wished to slit your throat before I died.”

“Ah,” said Crawford, “revenge is not as foreign a notion to you as you claim.”

“That boy,” said Andersson in sudden fury, “loves you, Crawford. He loves you, you and that nameless creature, in all innocence. I thought at first you must have directed Schuldig to twist his mind but I could feel nothing of that, simply boyish admiration and love. He is too innocent; he felt worry even over the creature upon whom I bade him exercise his powers. Why have you not made him as vicious as anyone would expect?”

Crawford watched the play of expression upon her face and felt all at once that he saw her truly, not as she showed herself to others. She was angry, he thought, because she did not understand, when she was given to knowing the moods and feelings of others better than did they themselves. “I must be truthful,” he thought. “She will know if I prevaricate.” He drew careful breath, saying, “When we first found him, I did intend to hand him over. He was powerful, I could see, and I had no doubt that he would be a fine tool for our masters. We were in Japan, however, and could not turn him over. A year there, and then we had a long journey back to Europe and were ordered directly on to Mars. I could have sent him to them then, but thought I would find him of use on that distant world - I already thought of myself as having three men under me, rather than two, I know that now. Schuldig grew fonder and fonder of him, and more and more amused by how Nagi fought him for my affections, then one day they were simply the best of friends, and -”

“Ah,” interjected Andersson dryly, “how odd that anyone should change their views while in the company of a mind reader!”

“You do him an injustice,” said Crawford. “He is not as people think, or, I should say, he can make himself not fit such patterns as we are told such strong mind readers perforce must. It is an irrational prejudice we are trained to hold against persons such as he. I would not be without him - no, do not look so wry, I am no fool. That mind readers manipulate I am well aware, but if he changed something in me, he changed it in himself also. He loves Nagi and wants him safe and far from all that was done to us as boys. To be free of that place is not as simple as hiding - if they followed after us to Mars, where will they not follow? We must deal them a blow that will keep them from our trail, Andersson.”

“And you want my aid,” said Andersson in flat displeasure.

“A world where no one would come for your daughters, as a mother you must surely want that -”

“Do not,” said Andersson, “speak to me of what a mother should or should not want. What do you know?”

Crawford looked down upon her, seeing the cold anger in her eyes. “Well, then,” he said, folding his arms, “let us have this matter out. What should I know? A man should at least know if he has a son or a daughter, don’t you think? Or if he has a child at all?”

“D--- you,” said Andersson. “What burden was it to you? Do not heave a sigh, will you tell me we merely obeyed orders we could not disobey? They took it from me, I never saw it and I can tell you no more. You know as much as I, and I wish you as much joy of the knowledge.” She turned her face from him, breathing fast and shallow in anger that appeared to Crawford unfeigned, though he knew well the hazards of believing what such a one as she showed of her feelings.

“Andersson,” said Crawford, feeling queerly awkward as if he were once more a boy, “perhaps it was better that you know nothing, that you did not have time to form affections -”

“Men,” said Andersson in weary disgust. “I am so very tired of the stupid things men say.”

“Karin,” said Crawford after long moments of silence, “I am very sorry.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said in a low voice. “Why did you have to come? Why rake up the past when it is unchangeable?”

“For the sake of protecting our future,” said Crawford. “Schuldig wants to kill Dorfmann - whom do you want to kill?”

Andersson looked at him as if he had gone mad, then laughed, briefly and humourlessly. “I would not be amiss to seeing Dorfmann’s blood spilt either,” she said. “Send me a ferrotype.”

“Come with us and see for yourself.”

“No,” said Andersson. “I will take all of this as a warning, and at most will take my children and go. I cannot be caught up in your war - I think I will tell Williams to burn my house down, and Madame Bouchard and her children will be dead to the world.”

“Where will you go?” asked Crawford.

“If I were to seek out my family, I would run the risk of discovery,” said Andersson. “They would check there, I am sure. I do not know if I can even speak Danish any longer,” she said, as if to herself. “It has been so long - no matter. I will vanish. I will send you word of all those of our acquaintance whose locations I know, Crawford, but do not ask for more. Avoid them or enlist them as you will.”

“Very well,” said Crawford. “Listen, Andersson, I am serious when I say I wish to leave them nothing of mine - if I discover anything that concerns us both, shall I send you word?”

“Let the past be past,” she said. “Come, let us take back our people.” So saying, she led the way from the labyrinth once more, and indicated a path on which Williams stood with Nagi. She gestured imperiously, and Williams gave the lad a little shove from her. Crawford watched him walk towards Schuldig, slowly at first then faster and faster till he was sprinting full out.

“Let the girl go,” thought Crawford, and at once he saw Maria look about her in surprise as if she had suddenly awoken, and she too fled, towards Williams. He ignored her, watching as Nagi crashed into Schuldig’s embrace, his arms flung tightly around him, and noted in some surprise how tall the lad looked in Schuldig’s arms.

“Kaninchen!” cried Schuldig, pressing a kiss to Nagi’s brow and laughing as Nagi burrowed against him.

“How queer love is,” mused Andersson.

“Yes,” agreed Crawford, “yet not unpleasant. Goodbye, Karin.”

“Goodbye, Brad,” said Andersson. “Kill them all.”

She walked away without looking back, ignoring the admiring glances of the men who raised their hats to her. Crawford looked after her, then turned on his heel. He felt restless and dissatisfied, he thought, yet, as he looked at Nagi clinging first to Schuldig and then to Farfarello, he could not deny how his heart lightened in relief at both the lad’s return and how, if they had not left behind them friends, they had at least not left active enemies.