You can't make things right by magic. You can only stop making them wrong. -- Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Since Haliran was moved to her new prison she hadn't seen anyone but the guards. They were a very boring lot. None of them would say a word to her. In fact they wouldn't even talk to each other when they knew she could hear. She gritted her teeth and made a pretence of being a good prisoner while she waited for one of them to make a mistake. If she could learn where she was, if she could even find out how many guards there were, she would have some solid information to work with. As it was she knew only that she was still somewhere in Eldrin.

It was looking more and more likely they were trying to kill her with boredom.

All of the days blurred together. She had no idea if it had been one week or two since the trial. At long last someone came to visit her.

It wasn't any of her acquaintances. It was just the lawyer who had been assigned to her case. The woman obviously had no interest in Haliran or her crimes. Like all lawyers the only thing she wanted was a case she could win, and instead she'd been handed one where her client's guilt was obvious. She made a half-hearted attempt to inform Haliran of possible options to lessen her sentence.

"You could plead not guilty, but it would be a waste of time. The police have searched your house. Your ex-husband showed them where you hid incriminating evidence."

Haliran had only listened with half an ear until she heard the word 'ex-husband'. Then her head snapped up. "Ex-husband?"

The lawyer nodded, looking bored. "The empress personally declared your marriage was illegal and granted him a divorce."

Boiling rage filled Haliran's chest. How dare Siarvin cast her aside like that? How could he be so disloyal after everything she'd done for him? She'd given him a house, food, clothes, and asked so little in return! In her haste to make herself the victim she conveniently overlooked the little fact she had raped him, forced him into marriage, and kept him prisoner for centuries.

The lawyer continued talking in a very dull, uninterested tone. "The best thing for you to do would be to admit everything. The result will be the same and it will make everything go so much more smoothly."

Over the years Haliran had always known there was the chance she might be caught one day. She'd made plans for it. None of her plans had included Siarvin plotting against her and so all of them were useless. But lately she had made new ones. She'd had nothing better to do while sitting in her cell for days.

"I wasn't alone," she said. "I can name all my accomplices."

"The police have already found all that information."

Haliran grinned. "Not all of it. There are things I didn't keep in my house. Don't you think they'd want to know who assassinated the president of Eyphia?"

That got the lawyer's attention. For the first time she actually looked at Haliran instead of reading her notes and addressing them in Haliran's general direction. The president had been surrounded by his bodyguards when he was shot dead in the middle of a busy street without anyone seeing the assassin. Haliran didn't actually know who was responsible. But if she pretended she did, and if she gave the name of an assassin she knew was long dead and couldn't object, she would have a bargaining chip and a chance to get out of this mess.

"I'll have to ask," the lawyer said, picking up her briefcase with a distracted air. She left without another word.

Kiriyuki, unaware of what was happening in Gihimayel Palace, sat down to write letters to her parents and Mirio. The first letter was finished quickly and sent off to the Seroyawan embassy. The second one would have to go to the Gengxinese embassy instead.

Just to make sure no one read it before it was forwarded to Mirio, Kiriyuki took the precaution of writing it in common Seroyawan vocabulary but with classical Seroyawan characters. Gengxin's writing system shared many characters with common Seroyawan, but classical Seroyawan characters were much more complicated and in some cases completely different than their modern equivalents. Add to that the fact Gengxinese still used many of the bone-script characters that had fallen into disuse or been altered beyond recognition while Seroyawan had abandoned them over seventy thousand years ago, and she hoped no one would be able to decipher her message.

Excellent news, she wrote. Abihira has seen sense and given up necromancy.

She gave a very brief account of the disrupted festival. Then she moved on to the drama of Haliran being exposed, described Irímé turning into a dragon, and added a few choice words about Uncle Arikimi's fondness for lecturing people and need to mind his own business. If she'd thought there was any chance of her parents reading that part she would never have written it. Luckily Mirio had gotten into the habit of destroying any letter that could by any stretch of the imagination be considered incriminating. Kiriyuki had no doubt her letter would go straight into the fire as soon as he finished reading it.

She ended with, I hope you're home by the time I get back. I can face Mother and Father more easily if you're there to back me up.

Kiriyuki sealed the letter in an envelope and sent a servant to deliver it to the Gengxinese embassy. She picked up a book and began reading with a relatively light heart.

She would have been much less cheerful if she knew what was about to happen in Gengxin.

It always took someone a while to recover after a time of prolonged stress and fear. That just became even more true when the stress was better described as "getting possessed by a cannibalistic monster that could create more of itself" and the fear was the terror of getting eaten by something you had accidentally created. Logically both Abi and Ilaran knew there were people waiting outside who hadn't a clue what had happened and would want answers. Neither of them felt up to giving those answers right now.

Ilaran made a half-hearted attempt to scrub the burns off the floor with the mop left behind by the unfortunate cleaner. It was a futile endeavour, but it gave him something to do other than sit around and wait for the full horror of the past hours to dawn on him.

Now that Abi was no longer in danger, her injured leg began to ache. Every kitchen had a first aid kit in case of accidents. She hobbled into the kitchen, pulled the first aid kit out of the cupboard, and sat down to examine her leg.

Her trouser leg was ripped in two from the hem to the knee. She pushed the two halves away and winced when she saw the cut. It wasn't deep, but it reached from her ankle almost to her knee. Dried blood covered her whole leg, her trousers, and her shoe. First she wiped off as much of the blood as she could. Then she hunted through the first aid kit for a plaster large enough to cover the whole wound. There wasn't one. All she could find was a roll of bandages.

Abi wound them tightly around her lower leg. She hissed at the pain. Later she'd have to go to a doctor. She might even need stitches. Speaking of stitches, she had better find a way to sew up her trouser leg. The fewer questions she had to answer, the better.

Ilaran has a sewing kit in his rooms, she remembered. That thought was quickly followed by, I'll have to ask him to get it. I can't walk that far.

With some difficulty she got up. Having wings threw off her balance and putting weight on her injured leg was out of the question. She half-hopped and half-flew back to the entrance hall.

Ilaran had given up scrubbing the floor. He knelt in front of the scorch marks, staring down at the floor with an eerily lifeless look in his eyes. For a minute Abi worried there was something wrong with him again. He raised his head and listened without any visible interest when she spoke. Abi had to repeat herself twice before he understood.

"Sewing kit?" he said. His voice was flat and devoid of all emotions. "Oh yes. My sewing kit. I'll get it."

He got up, then paused. He stared at her with a faintly puzzled expression. "Why haven't you changed back?"

Truth be told Abi wanted to change back. Now that she wasn't using them her wings were an uncomfortable weight on her back and a damned nuisance when trying to go through a doorway. But like Irímé a week ago she just didn't know how to change back. Nor did she want to admit that.

"I need them to walk because my leg's hurt," she said.

Ilaran winced. "Sorry."

Abi shrugged. "It wasn't your fault."

When the parasite was removed Ilaran had at first felt horror and revulsion when he thought of what it had used his body to do. A few minutes passed and he stopped feeling anything at all. He'd been in shock enough times to recognise this numbness. He also knew it would wear off, and then he would really be in a state. So he did his best to find something, anything to distract himself. Focus on one thing at a time and forget everything else. Go back to his rooms. Get the sewing kit. Bring it back to Abihira.

He got as far as his front door before the numbness wore off. Seeing the damage the parasite had done -- the door broken in two, the claw marks on the door and walls, the splinters all over the ground -- brought back the terror of being a helpless spectator in his own mind. Walking into the bedroom made the memory of the endless hunger come rushing back. A dozen nightmares warred in his head. Ilaran fell to his knees and screamed.

Gengxin's royal palace was always quiet at night. Usually the only sound was the faint babbling of the river that flowed through the grounds. Mirio tossed and turned for ages before he could finally get to sleep. His father's palace was right next to the sea and he was used to hearing the waves as he fell asleep. This quiet just didn't seem natural.

It was the early hours of the morning and he was still wide awake when the gong rang. He jumped up so quickly that he fell out of bed.

The gong rang again and again. Four times it rang. Then it stopped. The sound of a crowd hurrying back and forth took its place.

Mirio climbed back into bed and tried to fall asleep. Whatever it was could wait until daylight. A real emergency would have been announced by the warning bells, the war drums, and the great gong in the throne room. This was a much smaller gong and therefore warned of a much smaller emergency. Maybe there was a fire in one of the kitchens. Maybe it was as simple as a guard who was late for his shift and was put down as missing. At any rate he was not going to investigate at such an unearthly hour.

The hurrying footsteps continued. They grew louder and louder even though they didn't come near Mirio's room. Now he could hear a murmur of agitated voices.

Damn it. He wasn't going to get any peace anyway, so he might as well see what was happening.

One of the palaces was surrounded by a throng of guards, servants and eunuchs. A handful of his uncle's concubines ventured out too. The palace doors were wide open and someone inside was crying.

Mirio looked up at the sign above the doors. Second Prince's Manor, it read. An unpleasant suspicion began to dawn on him.

One of the imperial physicians stepped out of the palace. He murmured something to the chief eunuch. The chief eunuch turned and hurried away. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. All of them said more or less the same thing.

"The Second Prince is dead!"