“No. Please,” she whispered without force. She expected no mercy.

Raven squeezed, forced her to her knees. Her face purpled, bloated. Her tongue rolled out. She seized his wrist, shuddered. He lifted her, stared into her eyes till they rolled up and she sagged. She shuddered again, died.

Raven jerked his hand away. He stared at that rigid, shaking claw. His face was ghastly. He surrendered to the all-over shakes.

“Croaker!” the Captain snapped. “Don’t you claim to be a physician?”

“Yeah.” People were reacting. The whole garden was watching. I checked Whiny-voice. Dead as a stone. So was his sidekick. I turned to the woman.

Raven knelt. He held her left hand. There were tears in his eyes. He removed a gold wedding band, pocketed it. That was all he took, though she sported a fortune in jewelry.

I met his gaze over the body. The ice was in his eyes again. It dared me to voice my guess.

“I don’t want to sound hysterical,” One-Eye growled, “but why don’t we get the hell out of here?”

“Good thinking,” Elmo said, and started heeling and toeing it.

“Get moving!” the Captain snapped at me. He took Raven’s arm. I trailed.

Raven said, “I’ll have my affairs settled by dawn.”

The Captain glanced back. “Yeah,” was all he said.

I thought so too.

But we would leave Opal without him.

The Captain received several nasty messages that night. His only comment was, “Those three must have been part of the in-crowd.”

“They wore the Limper’s badges,” I said. “What’s the story on Raven, anyway? Who is he?”

“Somebody who didn’t get along with the Limper. Who was done dirty and left for dead.”

“Was the woman something he didn’t tell you?”

The Captain shrugged. I took that as an affirmative.

“Bet she was his wife. Maybe she betrayed him.” That kind of thing is common here. Conspiracies and assassinations and naked power-grabs. All the fun of decadence. The Lady does not discourage anything. Maybe the games amuse her.

As we traveled north we moved ever nearer the heart of the empire. Each day took us into emotionally bleaker country. The locals became ever more dour, grim, and sullen. These were not happy lands, despite the season.

The day came when we had to skirt the very soul of the empire, the Tower at Charm, built by the Lady after her resurrection. Hard-eyed cavalrymen escorted us. We got no closer than three miles. Even so, the Tower’s silhouette loomed over the horizon. It is a massive cube of dark stone. It stands at least five hundred feet high.

I studied it all day. What was our mistress like? Would I ever meet her? She intrigued me. That night I wrote an exercise in which I tried to characterize her. It degenerated into a romantic fantasy.

Next afternoon we encountered a pale-faced rider galloping south in search of our Company. His badges proclaimed him a follower of the Limper. Our outriders brought him to the Lieutenant.