As Tris watched the players, sparks appeared in the airs currents. She thought they might be part of a picture, but when she strained to see them, they disappeared. At last she gave up, relaxed and drifted.

The gathering broke up as the shadows lengthened. Everyone but Ferouze, Keth and Glaki had to work. Keth, seeing that Tris was not inclined to move, took Glaki and Little Bear to the Lotus Street skodi to fetch their supper.

CHAPTER TWELVE

That night the three of them ate in Yalis room, washed their dishes, and settled in for an evenings study. Keth pored over a book of glass magic Tris had borrowed from Heskalifos. Tris continued to read Winds Path. When she caught Kethlun yawning, she ordered him off to bed. Glaki was already asleep she barely twitched when Tris changed her dress for a nightgown and tucked her in. Little Bear curled up beside the child. Tris napped, exhausted by her day, but she woke some time after the clocks had struck midnight, the mix of lightning and tidal strength in her veins fading but strong. Her magic told her that dawn was still hours away, but she was no lon ger sleepy.

She went to Ferouze and made the same bargain as the night before, that the woman would stay with Glaki. She barely trusted Ferouze, but Keth needed his rest. With Ferouze to watch over Glaki and her lightning-sparked payment, Tris went out into Khapik. Once more Chime rode on her back,

As fascinated by the changing worlds inside the district as Tris.

Tonight there was a festival in which yaskedasi dressed as butterflies, their wings huge creations of gauze and bamboo painted in a variety of des igns. They paraded around the streams and islands in a soaring of flutes and the silvery tones of bells and hand cymbals. Guests and other yaskedasi showered them with confetti, dancing around the butterflies.

When Tris tired of the noise and crowd, she turned down one of the quieter streets, venturing into Khapik s darker areas. She came upon two women taking a purse from a drunken man. Tris considered putting a stop to it. She finally decided that if the man were fool enough to get so drunk that he could be separated from his friends and robbed, perhaps the missing purse would teach him a lesson hed remember. The women looked at Tris, eyes glittering, as if they considered doing something about her, but when she walked by silently, they left her alone.

The encounter made her wonder again about what manner of person the Ghost was. He must look normal enough, to come and go everywhere with no one the wiser. He was clever, to turn the city s dislike for the dirtier side of life to his advantage. That he loathed the female yaskedasi was obvious. Did he want to be caught? Given that he left his victims in public places, it would seem that he did or was that due more to his contempt for the city as a whole? Perhaps he didnt hate just the pretty, shady entertainers. Perhaps he hated all Tharios.

Tris shook off her musings. Thinking about what drove the Ghost, while fascinating, was Demas job. If she was to help, if she was to do more than shepherd Keth as he followed his strange connection to these deaths, it w ould be through wind-scrying. The air was everywhere. If she could see what the moving air touched, she could trace the killer, and avenge Glakis loss of the women who loved her.

Her breezes, sent out that night from Ferouzes, found her now and then with their burden of sound. She listened to the conversations and noise they carried, finding nothing she could use. She also strained to view something, anything, in them. Once she thought she saw the curve of a gauze butterfly wing. She froze, trembling, ne eding to see more, but if she had actually glimpsed anything, the air that carried it had moved on, one of a hundred currents that flowed down the street.

just my imagination,she muttered to Chime, and sighed.

Deep within Khapik, she walked down a service alley for the first time, having avoided them for their rubbish and smell until now. Two prathmuni sat there with a wagonload of garbage, eating supper. Tris was about to pass them by, but curiosity made her stop. the arurimi talked to you?she asked. the murders? Whether you ve seen anyone or anything suspicious?

The pmthmuni a woman with muscles like a bulls and a teenaged boy regarded Tris with equally flat eyes. Finally the woman spat on the flagstones at her side. get some local idiot to explain what happens if youre caught talking to one of us. Wed as soon not catch the whipping. And go away.

One will hear about this talk from me,Tris replied. will you answer my question?

Demanded the boy. have you done for us?

up,growled the woman.

s what I can do for you, if you pass the word around,Tris replied. I tell the dhaskoi whos charged with finding the Ghost that you re helping, he can stop the arurim prathmuni from taking your people in for questioning.

must be a god, then,said the woman. bout its more likely the arurimi will just keep torturing till one of us confesses and gets executed for it?

if it is one of you?Tris asked, curious.

The prathmuni looked at one another and drew the circle of the All-Seeing God on their foreheads. beat that out of us long ago,said the woman, but she looked uneasy.

Of us - gods,breathed the boy. d slaughter us all.

Is it one of you?Tris asked again.

They said at once.

Added the boy.

surely youve angry folk among you,Tris pointed out, watching as sparkles, a fistful of them, flowed past her eyes.

replied the woman. they know better than to risk everyones lives. They know how the upper classes feel about us.

s right,the boy agreed weakly.

There was no image in the passing clump of light. Tris sagged with disappointment. To the woman she said, arent guided by what their people need.

The woman spat to one side again before she said, re strange even for a shenos. Are there more at home like you?