Michael and Cheta and the new one, Kei, were serving drinks, cups of greeting. Kei set down a large water bowl into which he poured a measure from a tankard of beer. The dogs went to it and began to drink loudly and couthly. Kei took the tankard next to Malach.

Malach wore black. Black trousers inside black boots, a black shirt and long black coat.

But Althene took off her velvet wrap to reveal a dress folded about her like two leaves against a stem, the color of green Han jade. Her pale throat was bare and her long fingers, but on her left wrist was a huge sunflower of dull antique gold held on a golden band. Her oval nails were painted the same shade. Her face was exquisitely made up, her black eyes in a coffee mask, lips tawny, the hint of tawny blusher on her cheeks. Her lashes were long as those of a leopardess.

Rachaela stood in the doorway like a bad child who had crept down to spy on the grown-ups.

Cheta brought her a goblet of wine and she took it uneasily.

They were Scarabae. The Scarabae were everywhere.

They had no look of dust, cobwebs, but in fact Eric,

Sasha, and Miranda had greatly lost that look. Even the man Kei was firm and soldierly, an adjutant to Malach's captain. Like the incredible Althene he too had the black Scarabae eyes.

But Malach was a rogue. His blood, like hers, Rachaela's, must be mixed.

They had lost their champion, Adamus. They had had to borrow a new knight from another board. But it was still chess.

"Michael and Cheta will take you up to your rooms. We hope you'll be comfortable." Eric paused. He said, "Camillo…"

"Isn't here," said Malach. He tilted back his white head and his hair brushed his thighs. "Upstairs hiding?"

Miranda said, "Camillo is changing, like a butterfly."

"At last," said Malach. His chiseled, cruel mouth curled a moment, then relaxed. "You were used to call him Uncle."

Eric shook his head. "If you prefer—"

"Let's be young," said Malach. "You are Eric. Let him be Camillo."

Malach's was the face of a man of thirty-eight or thirty-nine. If he was a Scarabae that would probably mean that he was a hundred years old, or older. If one believed their stories.

Althene crossed her legs. Her short black boots were embroidered with jade green and golden flowers. Above showed a sheer stocking with a seam of charcoal black.

Was she Malach's? She did not seem to belong to him, and surely women would be his belongings, not his companions.

Rachaela put down her unfinished wine.

"You're here because of Ruth."

Miranda said, "It's all right, Rachaela."

"We couldn't contain her," said Rachaela. She made herself look at Malach. "White knight to take black queen."

"A traditional move," said Eric.