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Puzzled, he moved to get a better look at the tangled webs.
The first one repulsed him. The threads looked swollen, moldy, tainted. At the end of every single tether line of that web was an Ebony Jewel chip.
The middle one was beautiful, filled with thousands of those little colored stars and a sprinkling of Black and Ebony Jewel chips.
The last one was a simple web, perfect in its symmetry, made of gray, ebon-gray, and black threads. It, too, had Black and Ebony Jewel chips that had been carefully placed on the threads to form a spiral.
He glanced at Witch, but she was focused on the task, so he shifted again to watch.
He saw Char, the leader of the cildru dyathe, approach the webs. The boy grinned at him, waved a jaunty good-bye, and faded to become another bright star.
Titian approached him, kissed his cheek. "I'm proud to have known you, High Lord." She walked over to the webs and faded.
As he watched her, something nagged at him. Something about the structure of those webs. But before he could figure it out, Dujae, the artist who had given the coven drawing lessons, approached him.
"Thank you, High Lord," the huge man said. "Thank you for allowing me to know the Ladies. All the portraits I have done of them are at the Hall in Kaeleer now. My gift to you."
"Thank you, Dujae," he replied, puzzled.
As Dujae walked away, Prothvar stepped up. "It's a different kind of battlefield, but it's a good way to fight. Take care of the waif, Uncle Saetan." Prothvar hugged him.
Cassandra came next. Cassandra, whom he hadn't seen since the first party when they had all met the coven and the boyos.
She smiled at him, a sad smile, then pressed her hand against his cheek. "I wish I had been a better friend. May the Darkness embrace you, Saetan." She kissed him. When she faded, a glorious Black star began to shine in the middle web.
"Mephis," he said when his eldest son approached. "Mephis, what—"
Mephis smiled and hugged him. "I was proud to have you for a father, and honored to know you as a man. I'm not sure I ever told you that. I wanted you to know. Good-bye, Father. I love you."
"And I love you, Mephis," he said, holding on hard as he felt grief swell inside him.
When Mephis faded into the web, the only one left of the demon-dead was Andulvar.
"Andulvar, what's going on?"
"And the Blood will sing to the Blood," Andulvar replied. "Like to like." He looked at the webs. "She found a way to identify those who have been tainted from those who still honor the ways of the Blood. But she needed help to keep those who followed the old ways from being swept away with the rest when she unleashes. That's what the demon-dead will do—our strength will anchor the living. We'll burn out in the doing, but as Prothvar said, it's a good way to fight."
Andulvar smiled at him. "Take care of yourself, SaDiablo. And take care of those pups of yours. Both of them. Just remember that your mirror truly is your mirror. You only have to look to see the truth." Andulvar hugged him. "No man could have asked for a better friend or a better Brother. Hold on. Fight. You have the hardest burden, but your sons will help you."
Andulvar walked to the webs. He spread his dark wings, raised his arms... and faded.
As he blinked back tears, Jaenelle walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around her. "Witch-child ..."
She shook her head, kissed him, and smiled. But her eyes were filled with tears.
"Thank you for being my father. It was glorious, Saetan." Then she leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Take care of Daemon. Please. He'll need you."
She didn't fade into the web, she just disappeared.
Wiping the tears with the back of his hand, he approached the webs and studied them carefully.
The first web, the moldy web, were the Blood tainted by Dorothea and Hekatah. The second web, with all its Jewel stars, were the Blood who still honored the old ways. The third web, with its spiral, was Witch.
As he continued to study the webs, he began to shake his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. "No, no, no, witch-child," he muttered. "You can't connect them like this. If you unleash your full strength ..."
It would blast through the large Ebony Jewel in the center of the first web, travel through all the strands, sweep up all the minds that resonated with those strands, then hit all the Ebony chips, meeting a smaller portion of itself in a devastating collision of power that would destroy anyone caught in it. Then it would continue on to the next web, barely diminished.
The middle web, with all those thousands of beads of power, would provide tremendous resistance as her strength swept through it. The demon-dead, providing a shield and anchor for the living, would absorb some of her power as it flooded over them, but not all of those thousands of beads of power would be enough. That unleashed strength would continue on to the third web and...
The power would flow through that perfect symmetry, burn out the web, and shatter every Jewel chip as it came blasting back through the spiral. And once the last Jewel chip shattered, the only thing left to reabsorb the rest of the power would be...
"NO, witch-child," he shouted, turning round and round, searching for her. "No! A backlash like that will rip you apart! Jaenelle!"
He turned back to the webs. Maybe, if he could link himself to Witch's web somehow, draw every drop of reserve power out of his Birthright Red Jewels and his Black... Maybe he could shield her enough to keep her safe when the rest of that explosion of power came screaming back at her.
He took a step forward...
... and everything faded.
Saetan opened his eyes. Deep twilight. Almost night.
A dream? Just a dream? No. He had been a Black Widow too long not to know the difference between a dream and a vision. But it was fading. He couldn'tquite remember, and there was something about that vision that was desperately important for him to remember.
That was when he noticed Daemon standing a few feet in front of him, watching him with frightening intensity.
Just remember that your mirror trulyisyour mirror. You only have to look to see the truth.
Andulvar's words. Andulvar's warning.
So, with eyes blinded by tears, he looked at his mirror, his namesake, his true heir. And saw.
Still watching him, Daemon reached into his jacket pocket. His hand came out as a loose fist. He opened his fingers, tipped his hand.
Little colored bangles, the kind women sewed on dresses to catch the light, spilled to the ground.
Saetan stared at them. They chilled him, but he couldn't say why.
And when he looked up again at Daemon ... He could almost hear the unspoken plea to think, to know, to remember. But his mind was still too full of the other vision that had turned elusive.
