And in the eyes themselves, Kosta could see an edge of madness.

"So you're the new one, huh?" Trilling commented quietly. He was still coming, his right hand stuck

casually in his coat pocket. Did he have a weapon in there? Probably. Knife or gun; it didn't matter

which. Trilling looked like the kind who would be at home with either one.

"He's not a new one, Trilling," Chandris spoke up. Her voice was strained and tight, but her initial shock seemed to have vanished.

"It's the kosh in the fancy building, then?"

"No, not him, either," Chandris said. "There isn't anyone new."

"Don't give me that grist!" Trilling snarled. "You walk in that place wearing one set of clothes and

come out wearing another, and you're going to stand there and tell me he didn't tom you?"

"No, he didn't," Chandris said. "He really didn't, Trilling. He was just a touch. A targ. I had to dig in and soften him up. There isn't anyone new."

The madness in Trilling's eyes seemed to fade into an almost childlike happiness. "So there really isn't anyone?" he asked hopefully. "You mean it's just like it was? We're together again?"

With her shoulder pressed against his back, Kosta could feel Chandris's body tense up again. "What is it you want?" he put in before she could say anything.

Trilling looked at Kosta as if noticing him for the first time and not liking what he saw. "Are you deaf?" he demanded. "Or just stupid? Chandris is my girl. Always has been. Always will be."

"What if she-" Kosta stopped. Doesn't want to go with you, was how he'd planned to finish the question. But looking into Trilling's eyes, he suddenly realized that phrasing it that way might not be a good idea. "We need her here," he said instead. "There's an important scientific experiment we need her help with."

Trilling gave a snort, which shattered into dark laughter. "Now you think I'm stupid," he said between laughs.

The laughter vanished. "I don't like people who think I'm stupid," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "I'm not stupid."

"We know that, Trilling," Chandris soothed, her voice starting to tremble, too. "We don't think you're stupid."

"Because you'd have to think I was stupid to think I'd rent something that gla.s.sy," he said, glaring at each of them in turn.

"It's not gla.s.sy," Chandris insisted. "Jereko has to do an experiment, and I need to help fly the ship."

Trilling leveled a finger at her. "You?" he asked. "You? Fly this?"

"Yes," Chandris said. "I can. Really."

Trilling snorted again. "And I can eat rocks for breakfast," he said scornfully. "If you can fly this thing-"

"How much, Trilling?" Kosta cut in, suddenly aware of the weight of the credit chit in his pocket. A hundred eighty thousand ruya, free and clear.

Chandris must have been thinking the same thing. "No," she murmured urgently, clutching at his arm. "No. We can't."

"Quiet," Kosta murmured back, his full attention on Trilling. This was Chandris's life they were talking about. "I'm asking how much it would take, Trilling, for you to just turn around and walk away."

He had thought Trilling had been angry before. Now, he realized that that had just been a warmup. Trilling took another step toward them, his face reddening, the veins in his face bulging out like he was about to have a stroke. Chandris's fingers dug harder into Kosta's arm, and for a long moment he

was sure he was about to die."Don't say that to me again," Trilling warned, his voice as cold as dry ice. "Don't you ever say that to me again. You hear me? Don't ever say it."

The anger abruptly cleared from his face, and he smiled almost tenderly at Chandris. "Chandris is a one-man woman," he said, "and I'm a one-woman man. We were meant for each other."

"All right, Trilling," Chandris said softly. "We can be together again, if that's what you really want."

"Okay, good," Trilling said, shrugging as if it was suddenly no big deal to him. "What about him?"

he added, eyeing Kosta again.

"He has something we'll want to take with us," Chandris said. "There's no need to start out broke, is there?"

Trilling's eyes glistened. "He's got cash?"

"No, but something just as good," Chandris said, her voice low and persuasive. "Something we can sell for a lot of money. An angel."

Kosta felt his heart seize up inside him. So that was what she was angling for: to get Trilling into range of the Daviees' spare angel, hoping that its influence for good could change him.

Except that that wasn't what angels did.

Only Chandris didn't know that. "Chandris-"

"Quiet," Trilling said, dismissing him with a flick of a contemptuous glance. "These angel things are worth money, huh?"

"This whole ship was built just to look for them," Chandris told him, waving a hand at the bulk of the Gazelle looming over them. "We can go inside and get the angel, then we can leave. Just the two of us. Okay?"

Trilling looked at Kosta, and a slight smile touched his lips. "Sure," he said. "Whatever you say."

Kosta swallowed painfully. The other's face wasn't hard to read. They would leave, all right, but not until Trilling had taken care of all witnesses to the theft.

"Jereko?" Chandris asked tentatively.

For a heartbeat he was tempted to grab Chandris by the arm and make a run for it. But even if they

managed to get away, Trilling might decide to come back and start poking around inside the Gazelle.And Ornina was in there. Alone.

He took a deep breath. He'd been trained, however cursorily, in hand-to-hand combat. Inside, in closer quarters, he might have a better chance. "Okay," he said, gesturing back toward the hatchway. "Come on. I'll take you to the angel."

"Chandris can lead the way," Trilling said, pulling his hand out of his pocket for the first time. It was a knife, all right, with a short but wickedly serrated blade. "You stay back with me."

The ship was eerily quiet as Chandris led the way along the Gazelle's corridors. Kosta walked behind her, with Trilling close behind him. Occasionally the tip of the knife brushed against Kosta's shirt, sending a shiver up his back.

They reached Chandris's cabin and she pulled the angel carrying case out from under her bed. "This is it," she said, offering it to Trilling.

"Open it," he ordered, staying where he was behind Kosta.

"Not here," Chandris said, shaking her head. "It's not safe. The angel is very small, and if we're not careful we could lose it."

For a long moment Trilling was silent. Kosta watched Chandris's eyes, wondering if there would even be enough time for her to warn him with her reaction when Trilling pulled the knife back to stab him. "Fine," Trilling said at last. "What about a storeroom? You got a storeroom or something here?"

Chandris's eyes flicked to Kosta, and he felt his throat tighten in reaction. That was where Trilling planned to do it. Somewhere a little less obvious than Chandris's cabin, someplace where it would presumably take longer for someone to stumble over a dead body.

For a moment he considered turning and having it out right here. But Trilling's knife blade wasn't pressed against his back at the moment, which meant he didn't know exactly where it was. For a faster, better trained martial artist that might not have been a problem. For Kosta, it was the difference between death and even a chance at life.

He would have to wait, and hope that a better opportunity presented itself.

They had made their way to the narrow stairway and were nearly down to the lower deck when they heard the soft singing.

"Hold it," Trilling hissed, wrapping a hand around Kosta's throat and freezing them both in place. "Who's that?"

"It's Ornina Daviee," Chandris whispered, half turning, a sudden new tension in her face. Clearly, she hadn't expected Ornina to be down here. "This is her ship."

Reluctantly, Kosta thought, Trilling let go of his throat. "Okay," he said, the knife pressure leaving Kosta's back again. "Let's go. Real careful, now."

Hunching her shoulders once, Chandris started forward again. With Trilling's breath hot on the back of his neck, Kosta followed.

Ornina was kneeling beside the angel collector bin when they entered the storeroom, a set of delicate adjustment tools laid out on the floor beside her. "h.e.l.lo, Chandris," she said as they came in. "And Jereko. Oh-and who's your friend?"

"He's not exactly a friend," Kosta said, watching her face as Trilling moved a little to the side and the knife in his hand came into Ornina's view. The older woman's eyes flicked to the weapon but otherwise her expression didn't change. "His name's Trilling," Kosta continued. "He's here to take Chandris away with him."

"Ah," Ornina said calmly, looking back at Chandris. "And the angel, too, I see," she said, nodding at the carrying case under Chandris's arm. "Welcome to the Gazelle, Trilling. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"Very funny," Trilling said, giving Kosta a shove that sent him stumbling into Chandris. "Not much of a storeroom."

"We don't usually have much that needs storing," Ornina said. "Mostly it's where the angels get collected. I was serious about the tea, you know. Or you could take the angel from Chandris and she could go up and make it."

Trilling snorted. "You are funny," he said. "Okay. You-Kosta-get over there with her."

"Trilling, you don't have to do this," Chandris said, her voice soft and pleading as Kosta moved over beside Ornina. "Please. I'll go with you if you'll just leave them alone."

Trilling turned those insane eyes on her. "Of course you'll go with me," he said, sounding surprised. "We were meant to be together."

"Trilling, please," Chandris repeated.

"Chandris, what's gotten into you?" Trilling demanded. "What are these targs to you, anyway?"

Kosta darted his eyes around the storeroom, searching for inspiration, his mind flashing back to the other night when Chandris had confronted him with a bright light in the face and the threat of a cutting torch behind it. If she'd actually had a torch, and if it was still in here...

But she hadn't, and it wasn't. Ornina's tools? Too small to serve as weapons. Loose pipes, then, or discarded storage crate lids? But there wasn't anything he could see that wasn't fastened down.

"Enough!" Trilling barked, snapping Kosta's attention back to the discussion. The argument, such as it was, was over.

And Chandris had lost.

"You don't want to watch, you can leave the room," Trilling went on, looking back at Kosta and lifting his knife. "This'll just take a second."

Beside him, Kosta felt Ornina's hand fumble for his. He took her hand, and she squeezed once. Not a grip of panic or even fear, but merely of comfort and friendship. And, perhaps, farewell.

And then she gently disengaged her hand from his. Leaving him free for whatever action he was preparing himself for.

A sudden flood of determination surged through him like a hot cup of Ornina's sadras tea. Ornina was counting on him for her life; Chandris was counting on him for her freedom from this man.

There was no way in h.e.l.l he was going to fail them.

"All right," Chandris said, her voice humble and defeated. Her eyes flicked once to him as she stepped behind Trilling and headed for the door. Lifting his knife, his eyes glowing with expectation, Trilling started forward.

Kosta let his knees bend slightly into the combat stance he'd been taught and turned his torso slightly, presenting a smaller target to his opponent. His hands were still at his sides, but he could visualize bringing his left arm up to sweep Trilling's knife arm away to the side. With Trilling's torso open, he would throw the hardest kick he could at the other's knee, and follow it up with another kick to the abdomen...

And then, behind Trilling, Chandris turned silently on one foot and brought the angel carrying case down as hard as she could onto his head.

Trilling bellowed with rage, shaking his head once to clear it as he spun around toward his betrayer. A sweep of his left arm knocked the box from her hands and sent her staggering backwards. The knife flashed in his hand as he brought it back for a killing blow- And with another bellow he sprawled off-balance as Kosta's kick landed in the back of his right knee.

He hit the deck hard and twisted catlike around onto his back. Kosta started to dive on top of him, broke away at the last second as he belatedly saw that Trilling still had hold of his knife.

Too little, too late. Even as he tried to veer off, Trilling slashed the weapon in a vicious upward arc across Kosta's chest. He felt the tug as his shirt was sliced through; and then his momentum and tangled feet got the better of him and he too toppled onto the deck.

Trilling was back on his feet in an instant. Chandris started toward him; half turning, he slashed the air once to keep her back, then turned back to Kosta, his face contorted into something inhuman. Kosta scrambled backwards crab-style, his eyes fixed on the knife, trying desperately to get far enough away from Trilling to be able to get back onto his feet.

But Trilling clearly had no intention of giving him that much breathing room. Baring his teeth, he kept coming, his knife held ready. From somewhere to Kosta's left came a soft buzz- And suddenly Trilling jerked in place as if he'd stepped on a jellyfish. The enraged madman's expression softened into an odd sort of bewilderment, the knife dangling in a loosened grip.