AWARM NIGHT, THE FRAGRANCE OF FLOWERS. MOONLIGHT on the trees, on the pale stones of the garden wall, on the woman standing in the high window.

Devin hears a sound to his left and quickly turns. Rovigo running up, to stop, rigid with shock as his gaze follows Alessans upward. Behind him now comes Sandre with Alais.

"Help me!" the Duke orders harshly, dropping to the cobblestones beside Devin. His expression is wild, distraught, he has a knife in his hand.

"What?" Devin gasps, uncomprehending. "What do you . . . ?”

"My fingers! Now! Cut them! I need the power!" And Sandre dAstibar slaps the hilt of the knife hard into Devins palm and curls his own left hand around a loose slab of stone in the street. Only his third and fourth fingers are extended. The wizards fingers, of binding to the Palm.

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