around the corner.
The hallway before him stood empty.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped from
hiding. Down the hail he crept, swift and silent, casting anxious
glances ahead and behind as he went. The Shadowen were al-
ways watching him. Always. But there were none now, it
seemed, none that he could see. He kept going. He checked
each door as he passed it. A wolf’s head with red lettering be-
low-where was it?
If he was caught .
Then the door he was searching for was before him, the
wolf’s eyes glaring into his own. He stepped up to it quickly,
put his ear close and listened. Silence. Carefully he reached out
and turned the handle.
It gave easily. The door opened before him and he was
through.
The room was empty save for the wooden cabinet, a tail,
shrouded coffin propped against the far wail. He could hardiy
believe his good fortune. Swiftly he went to the cabinet, opened
it, and reached inside. His hands closed about the Mirrorshroud.
Cautiously he took it out, lifting it toward the graying light.
The fabric was soft and thick, the cloak as light as dust. Its
blackness was disconcerting, an inkiness that looked as if it could
swallow you whole. He held the cloak before him momentarily,
studying it, weighing a final time the advisability of what he was
about to do.
Then quickly he swung it over his shoulders and let it settle
into place. He could barely feel it, a presence no greater than
the shadow he cast in the failing daylight. He tied its cords
about his neck and lifted the hood into place. He waited expec-
tantly. Nothing seemed different. Everything was the same. He
wished suddenly for a mirror in which to study himself, but
there was none.
After closing the locker behind him, he crossed the room
and stepped out into the hallway.
He hadn’t taken a dozen steps when a Shadowen appeared
from out of the stairwell.
Coil felt his heart sink. He had no weapons, no means of
protection, and no time or place in which to hide. He kept
walking toward his discoverer, unable to think what else to do.
The Shadowen went by him without slowing. A brief nod,
a barely perceptible lifting of the dark face, and the other was
past, moving away as if nothing had happened.
Coil felt a rush of elation coupled with relief. The Shadowen
hadn’t recognized him! He could scarcely believe it. But there
was no time to revel in his good fortune. If he was ever to escape
Southwatch and Rimmer Dali, it must be now.
Down he went through the corridors and stairwells of the
monolith, skirting well-lit places in favor of darker ones, know-
ing only one way to go but determined to be noticed as little as
possible, cloak or no cloak. His hands clutched the dark folds
protectively, and his eyes searched the shadows as the daylight
faded to dusk. He reached the exercise yard unchallenged.
Weapons and armor stood stacked in racks and hung on pegs,
metal edges and fastenings glinting dully. Ulfkingroh was no-
where to be seen. Coil helped himself to a brace of long knives,
which he stuffed beneath his cloak. He circled the open area
for the doors that led to the outer courts. A pair of Shadowen
appeared and went past in the manner of the one before, obliv-
ious. Coil felt his muscles tighten with tension, but his confi-
dence in the Mirrorshroud was growing.
Momentarily he considered going down into the bowels of
Southwatch to discover what the Shadowen were hiding there.
But the risk was too great, he decided. Better to get clear as
quickly as possible. Whatever else, he must be free.
He hastened along the corridors that led to the outer courts,
another of twilight’s shadows. He reached the courts without
challenge, passed through, and almost before he realized it stood
before an outer door. He glanced around hurriedly. No one was
in sight.
He released the lock, pushed the door open, and stepped
out.
He stood within an alcove that sheltered him from the com-