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are there any limits to the ability of the dpg to travel from one universe to the next, or back and forth in time?"
    "Aha! Of course?"
    But the Shade of Pledger Lee Skeldon observed, "That doesn't help Mordaunt. He's earthbound, and he lacks the left-handed Art. We split his soul, took the feminine half away, and that reduced his power by half."
    "The only way we could handle him," Ling Qi said.
    "He doesn't know where his other half is. Although he might appreciate the irony if he did. And she doesn't know who she is, or where she came from."
    Ling Qi shuddered slightly, as if in sympathy, and looked away from Leoncaro's reproving glance.
    "What if Mordaunt does know where we stashed his, let us say, his better half?" Don Raimundo wondered.
    "He didn't get it from me," the Shade of Pledger Lee Skeldon replied. "And I'm pretty sure old Sal Rampa didn't spill the beans, either."
    "Both of your personas were dying, and violently," Leoncaro reminded him. "Can you be sure of what was going through your mind during those terrible moments?"
    "Pledger Lee's mind. I never make it a practice to store trade secrets in obvious places. And it wasn't Mordaunt himself, Sebastiano; an emissary the Trickster beguiled. So I'm certain that my—Pledger Lee's—assassin didn't learn a thing. Wouldn't matter anyway. He's brain-dead from the beating he took. He was just there to kill. But—now that you've raised the point—maybe next time it will be Mordaunt himself at the throat of one of you."
    "He cannot assume another human shape," the Brazilian sorcerer said. "He may only become. . . the beast. That is more of a danger to him than to us. Each time he shifts, it drains and ages Mordaunt's persona."
    "We are accustomed to being on our guard; we will now take precautions to assure the safety of our mortal selves," Leoncaro advised them.
    "I would like to send Mordaunt a message," Don Raimundo said, fire in his dark eyes. "A flood, perhaps, raging down from that desert mountain, with accompanying thunderbolts—"
    "Unacceptable risk to innocent humans," the Rebbe said. "Does the term Caretaker mean anything to you?"
    Don Raimundo hunched his shoulders, stroked his neat mustache, and appeared to be sulking.
    "Let us assume, because we cannot afford to overlook the possibility, that Mordaunt has taken an interest in Eden Waring," Leoncaro concluded. "He is fascinated with her Art and her nascent power, which he hopes to channel to his benefit. Further assume he may have approached her already." His Holiness tapped a forefinger on the cover of his diary, studying the Shade of Pledger Lee Skeldon as it continued to disappear from the earthly plane. "And now we know how best you may put to use your renewed lease on temporal life."
    There was no response except for a long sigh.
    "Good day, everyone," Leoncaro said, and returned his attention to the Anuncio he'd been working on.

Chapter 4
     
    SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
    OCTOBER 10
    4:18 P.M. PDT
     
    I 've always had this lucky streak," Frank Tubner said, with a modest glance at the well-tended nails of his right hand.
    "There are nights when he's uncanny at bingo," Pinky Tubner affirmed, giving Frank's left hand an affectionate squeeze. "And when it comes to drawings at the church—well, that's how we happen to be on our way to Rome this very minute! I mentioned bingo, but that's small potatoes—tell Betts how much you won playing blackjack at the Bellagio, Frank, when we were down there for the convention last week."
    "A tidy sum," Frank acknowledged with the unassuming smile of the blessed. "But I'm not that good. I mean, I've always had luck; the caveat is, know not to abuse your luck. Now Rex—he's our next-door neighbor in Santa Rosa, Rex Tarlock—Rex was in retail hardware until Home Depot came along and put him out of business—he's always after me to get in on these high-stakes poker games. But I tell him, Rex, this is my philosophy. Apart from the kind of 'luck'—quote unquote—that