I'd just gotten out of the shower and dressed the following morning, when I suddenly felt ill. I knew someone was in trouble and I knew who it was. Danger and terror were clouding my brain, almost preventing my ability to think rationally. I threw good sense to the winds. Snatching up my knife and pistol, I skipped away before Tory could stop me. I was so angry by what I found I wanted to kill.

Nenzi was shrieking—three of Grish's assistants were tying him to a table while Farzi and the other reptanoids were shouting at them to stop. Grish was in his chair nearby, watching the entire episode with no emotion while another man I hadn't met was putting on gloves and a surgical mask. A huge, surgical robot stood in the corner, ready to go to work. I had no idea where I'd landed, I'd just followed the trouble. That trouble was about to get complicated.

"What is going on here?" I shouted.

"It is time for Master Grish's transference." I stared at the surgeon—he was prepared to take Nenzi? I was furious in the time it took to blink.

"Don't be so surprised, young woman," Grish's voice was whispered malevolence. "I've been alive for more than a thousand years by employing this technique. I'm surprised Master San Gerxon failed to mention it to you." Grish laughed at my shock—he'd done the same thing—committed murder many, many times, in order to stay alive.

"This one seems simple, so we chose his body," Grish continued, nodding in Nenzi's direction.

"Is everything prepared?" That was gloves and mask speaking, as he jerked his head toward a shrieking Nenzi. Well, he'd just told me everything I needed to know. He was about to transplant Grish's brain into Nenzi's body. That wasn't going to happen. There was a reason this procedure had been outlawed across the Alliance—it was murder.

The surgeon's three assistants got cut when I freed Nenzi, pushing him toward Farzi. When the physician decided he wanted in on the conflict, I had my knife to his throat in very little time. I imagine that none of them expected me to move as swiftly as I did. Faster than a blink, actually. The physician was gurgling as I held him, the knife pressing into his flesh.

"Now," I said to Grish, who was staring at me in surprise. "If you touch one of my people again, I will flay the wrinkled skin from your bones and scatter it across your fields for the crows to eat. Do you understand?"

"But it's time for my transference," Grish whined.

"I don't think so," I said. "How many people have you murdered for a new body? How many times did you do it for him?" I jerked the physician around and slammed him into a wall.

His eyes were huge as he mumbled "Three." Now I was learning that Grish did this regularly, with the help of a homicidal physician and his assistants. Who knew how old Grish really was, or what else he'd done through the centuries to stay alive?

"You disgust me." I slammed the physician's head against the wall so hard it knocked him unconscious. "And you," I pointed my knife at the three assistants, who began to back away from me. "If you want to die, lay a hand on any of mine. Do you hear me?" All of them were bleeding from some sort of wound. One I'd gotten across the chest—he'd been tying Nenzi to the table. The other two had been holding Nenzi down. Both had slashes on their arms and hands.

"You cannot kill us," one of them was brave enough to say.

"She can and she will." Tory and Ry walked into the room—I had no idea where we were inside Grish's plantation home, since I'd skipped to where the trouble was. Tory and Ry were followed by Arvil, Wilffox, Wilffin and all four warlocks.

"I'll save her the trouble." Astralan had all three assistants turned to ash in a blink. It wasn't what I wanted, but this time I wasn't going to argue. I wanted Grish to be fried too, but that wasn't on the agenda. At least not yet.

"Grish, I hope you can live with that body for a while; I don't think my heir appreciates the idea of your stealing anyone else's." Arvil was smiling nastily at Grish. "And I like the idea of her flaying you. Hold onto that thought, Grish and don't cross me or mine again." Arvil stalked out of the room.

"Nenzi, are you all right?" I slid my knife into the sheath at my waist and went to hug him. Nenzi was gabbling in some language I didn't understand and holding onto me as if his life depended on it. Ry and Tory herded me and the reptanoids from the room. Astralan wasn't finished, though.

"Offend our cook again and I'll make sure there isn't enough of you left to scatter for the crows," he pointed a finger at Grish. As threats went, I'd take it seriously. The warlocks must have folded the Hardlows out of the room—I heard Grish whining pitifully for servants to come and attend him.

"Farzi, what happened?" I asked, as soon as we got the reptanoids outside. I learned that we'd been in Grish's private quarters—they took up a good third of the entire plantation house.

"Three came," Farzi said, meaning the three assistants. "Say Grish wishes to see Nenzi. I not invited, but go along behind." Farzi's speech was worried and less intelligible, just as Nenzi's or the others' was when they were upset. I nodded—Farzi had sneaked along behind the others. I might have gone, too—there wasn't any reason for Grish to want Nenzi alone. There was no logical purpose I could think of—none at all. "They attack Nenzi near room. He fight back. I shout at him. We not knowing what Grish want. Then physician tell what he want. I yell. They not listen. Then Reah comes." Farzi was nodding respectfully to me.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that I did come," I muttered. If they'd killed Nenzi, I would have killed them all. Lendill Schaff or no, I'd have turned and razed the plantation to the ground. Grish was counting on Arvil not wishing to kill Nenzi, even after the transference, I think. Grish was more dangerous than I'd believed possible.

I'll put a shield around their rooms, Ry offered mentally.

Good, I replied. "Nenzi, can we get you tea or something?" He was still shivering over his ordeal.

"Tea." He nodded. I think he just wanted the comfort and safety of others around him. I wasn't about to say no. We walked into Grish's kitchen and I put tea together for all of us, then proceeded to make breakfast. Grish's kitchen help had backed away from us the moment we appeared—word traveled fast, I suppose. They weren't going to argue with any one of us. The others started trickling in and got breakfast too. I left the kitchen cleaning with Grish's bunch. Grish and his animal driver wheeled in just as I was leaving with my four. Farzi hissed at him as Grish drove past. Grish pretended not to hear. Well, I hoped he remembered Astralan's words. I'd still flay him if he so much as stared at Nenzi again—if the warlocks didn't get him first.

"And there I thought you'd named her one of your heirs because you liked her cooking." Wilffox grinned at Arvil as they sat inside Wilffox's expansive suite, drinking.

"You've never seen her handle a ranos rifle," Arvil lifted his glass to drink. "We've dealt with demons on several worlds. Most people can't see the fuckers coming in the dark. The wizards can. Reah can, too. And she doesn't miss when she shoots, like some of my wizards." Arvil was tipsy or he'd never have revealed that information. He generally didn't want anyone to know that his wizards had weaknesses. "She saved my life the first time we took her out—the demons stepped up their attack and headed right for me. Her gun was empty so she kicked one, hit another in the head with the butt of her gun and punched a third. She moved so fast I couldn't even follow it."

"I wouldn't have believed it if we hadn't seen her throw the good physician against the wall," Wilffin snorted at the mental image.

"I think I chose well, and she and Teeg will work beside me for years to come," Arvil drained his glass. "You've seen how fiercely she protects me and mine."

"Full moon tonight. Please to come with us," Farzi said later, after dinner had been served. I'd cooked, adding enough for ten extra plates—in case Grish's appetite hadn't disappeared. He was glowering as he was driven to the table, but the moment he tasted the fowl I'd prepared, I think he forgot everything else in favor of the food.

"Now you see what a master cook can do," Wilffox had raised his glass to me. I wasn't a master cook—hadn't taken the exams to qualify. Wilffox didn't seem to mind.

"Where are we going?" I asked Farzi. Ry and Tory lifted eyebrows at my words. They hadn't been invited.

"Out—near fields," Farzi flung out an arm.

"I'll come," I nodded. Farzi was trusting me with something. I was going to find out what it was. I'll be fine, I sent to Tory, who looked a bit concerned. That's how I ended up dressing in the black leathers I'd brought with me and trooping toward the fields with Farzi, Nenzi and the six other reptanoids.

"We tell our story, then show you. We hope to keep trust," Farzi settled on the ground underneath some citrus trees. They'd been harvested already and the new fruit hadn't begun to grow yet.

"All right," I nodded to Farzi. This was important to him, I could tell.

"We were made. Not born—made," Farzi began. "DNA with egg." He gestured with his hands. I nodded—his birth had been manipulated. Probably grown in a pod—some parents chose that if they didn't or couldn't conceive a child the normal way. "We have one father." Well, one sperm donor, I think was what he meant.

"He was shapeshifter." That I hadn't really guessed at—I thought perhaps the eggs had been from reptiles of some sort. Now I was learning that wasn't the case. I nodded, though—Farzi hadn't lost me yet, or upset me in any way.

"Did you know him—your father?"

"No. Others take his seed to make us. They want someone like him. We not exact," Farzi explained. "Eyes different. Other things—different. Some things are same. Many of us, in beginning. Now, only eight." Farzi looked sad at that statement.