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〃Stop her；〃 she said。
Dowd looked up from his study； drawing his thumb across his throat to hush her。 But it was too late。 Despite her own motion； Quaisoir had heard her sister speak。 Her thrashings slowed； and her blind head turned in Jude's direction。
〃Who's there？〃 she demanded。
There was naked fury on Dowd's face； but he hushed her softly。 She would not be placated； however。
〃Who's with you； Lord？〃 she asked him。
With his reply he made an error that unknitted the whole fiction。 He lied to her。
〃There's nobody；〃 he said。
〃I heard a woman's voice。 Who's there？〃
〃I told you；〃 Dowd insisted。 〃Nobody。〃 He put his hand upon her face。 〃Now calm yourself。 We're alone。〃
〃No； we're not。〃
〃Do you doubt me； child？〃 Dowd replied； his voice； after the harshness of his last interrogations； modulating with this question； so that he sounded almost wounded by her lack of faith。 Quaisoir's reply was to silently take his hand from her face； seizing it tightly in her blue； blood…speckled fingers。
〃That's better；〃 he said。
Quaisoir ran her fingers over his palm。 Then she said； 〃No scars。〃
〃There'll always be scars；〃 Dowd said； lavishing his best pontifical manner upon her。 But he'd missed the point of her remark。
〃There are no scars on your hand；〃 she said。
He retrieved it from her grasp。 〃Believe in me；〃 he said。
〃No；〃 she replied。 〃You're not the Man of Sorrows。〃 The joy had gone from her voice。 It was thick； almost threatening。 〃You can't save me；〃 she said； suddenly flailing wildly to drive the pretender from her。 〃Where's my Savior？ I want my Savior！〃
〃He isn't here；〃 Jude told her。 〃He never was。〃
Quaisoir turned in Jude's direction。 〃Who are you？〃 she said。 〃I know your voice from somewhere。〃
〃Keep your mouth shut；〃 Dowd said； stabbing his finger in Jude's direction。 〃Or so help me you'll taste the mites…〃
〃Don't be afraid of him；〃 Quaisoir said。
〃She knows better than that；〃 Dowd replied。 〃She's seen what I can do。〃
Eager for some excuse to speak； so that Quaisoir could hear more of the voice she knew but couldn't yet name； Jude spoke up in support of Dowd's conceit。
〃What he says is right；〃 she told Quaisoir。 〃He can hurt us both； badly。 He's not the Man of Sorrows； sister。〃
Whether it was the repetition of words Quaisoir had herself used several times…Man of Sorrows…or the fact that Jude had called her sister； or both； the woman's sightless face slackened； the bafflement going out of it。 She lifted herself from the ground。
〃What's your name？〃 she murmured。 〃Tell me your name。〃
〃She's nothing；〃 Dowd said； echoing Quaisoir's own description of herself minutes earlier。 〃She's a dead woman。〃 He made a move in Jude's direction。 〃You understand so little；〃 he said。 〃And I've forgiven you a lot for that。 But I can't indulge you any longer。 You've spoiled a fine game。 I don't want you spoiling any more。〃
He put his left hand； its forefinger extended； to his lips。
〃I don't have many mites left；〃 he said； 〃so one will have to do。 A slow unraveling。 But even a shadow like you can be undone。〃
〃I'm a shadow now； am I？〃 Jude said to him。 〃I thought we were the same； you and I？ Remember that speech？〃
〃That was in another life； lovey；〃 Dowd said。 〃It's different here。 You could do me harm here。 So I'm afraid it's going to have to be thank you and good night。〃
She started to back away from him； wondering as she did so how much distance she would have to put between them to be out of range of his wretched mites。 He watched her retreat with pity on his face。
〃No good； lovey；〃 he said。 〃I know these streets like the back of my hand。〃
She ignored his condescension and took another backward step； her eye fixed on his mouth where the mites nested； but aware that Quaisoir had risen and was standing no more than a yard from her defender。
〃Sister？〃 the woman said。
Dowd glanced around； distracted from Jude long enough for her to take to her heels。 He let out a shout as she fled； and the blind woman lunged towards the sound； grabbing his arm and neck and dragging him towards her。 The noise she made as she did so was like nothing Jude had heard from human lips； and she envied it： a cry to shatter bones like glass and shake color from the air。 She was glad not to be closer； or it might have brought her to her knees。
She looked back once； in time to see Dowd spit the lethal mite at Quaisoir's empty sockets； and prayed her sister had better defenses against its harm than the man who'd emptied them。 Whether or no； she could do little to help。 Better to run while she had the chance； so that at least one of them survived the cataclysm。
She turned the first corner she came to； and kept turning corners thereafter； to put as many decisions between herself and her pursuer。 No doubt Dowd's boast was true； he did indeed know these streets； where he claimed he'd once triumphed； like his own hand。 It followed that the sooner she was out of them； and into terrain unfamiliar to them both； the more chance she had of losing him。 Until then； she had to be swift and as nearly invisible as she could make herself。 Like the shadow Dowd had dubbed her： darkness in a deeper dark； flitting and fleeting； seen and gone。
But her body didn't want to oblige。 It was weary； beset with aches and shudders。 Twin fires had been set in her chest； one in each lung。 Invisible hounds ripped her heels bloody。 She didn't allow herself to slow her pace； however； until she'd left the streets of playhouses and brothels behind her and was delivered into a place that might have stood as a set for a Pluthero Quexos tragedy： a circle a hundred yards wide； bounded by a high wall of sleek； black stone。 The fires that burned here didn't rage uncontrolled； as they did in so many other parts of the city； but flickered from the tops of the walls in their dozens； tiny white flames； like night…lights； illuminating the inclined pavement that led down to an opening in the center of the circle。 She could only guess at its function。 An entrance into the city's secret underworld； perhaps； or a well？ There were flowers everywhere； most of the petals shed and gone to rot； slickening the pavement beneath her feet as she approached the hole； obliging her to tread with care。 The suspicion grew that if this was a well； its water was poisoned with the dead。 Obituaries were scrawled on the pavement…names； dates； messages； even crude illustrations…their numbers increasing the closer to the edge she came。 Some had even been inscribed on the inner wall of the well； by mourners brave or broken…hearted enough to dare the drop。
Though the hole exercised the same fascination as a cliff edge； inviting her to peer into its depths； she refused its petitions and halted a yard or two from the lip。 There was a sickly smell out of the place； though it wasn't strong。 Either the well had not been used of late； or else its occupants lay a very long way down。
Her curiosity satisfied； she looked around to choose the best route out。 There were no less than eight exits…nine； including the well…and she went first to the avenue that lay opposite the one she'd e in by。 It was dark and smoky； and she might have taken it had there not been signs that it was blocked by rubble some way down its length。 She went to the next； and it too was blocked； fires flickering between fallen timbers。 She was going to the third door when she heard Dowd's voice。 She turned。 He was standing on the far side of the well； with his head slightly cocked and a put…upon expression on his face； like a parent who'd caught up with a truant child。
〃Didn't I tell you？〃 he said。 〃I know these streets。〃 〃I heard you。〃
〃It isn't so bad that you came here；〃 he said； wandering towards her。 〃It saves me a mite。〃
〃Why do you want to hurt me？〃 she said。 〃I might ask you the same question；〃 he said。 〃You do； don't you？ You'd love to see me hurt。 You'd be even happier if you could do the hurting personally。 Admit it！〃 〃I admit it。〃
〃There。 Don't I make a good confessor after all？ And that's just the beginning。 You've got some secrets in you I didn't even know you had。〃 He raised his hand and described a circle as he spoke。 〃I begin to see the perfection of all this。 Things ing round； ing round； back to the place where it all began。 That is： to her。 Or to you； it doesn't matter； really。 You're the same。〃
〃Twins？〃 Jude said。 〃Is that it？〃
〃Nothing so trite； lovey。 Nothing so natural。 I insulted you； calling you a shadow。 You're more miraculous than that。 You're…〃 He stopped。 〃Well； wait。 This isn't strictly fair。 Here's me telling you what I know and getting nothing from you。〃
〃I don't know anything；〃 Jude said。 〃I wish I did。〃
Dowd stooped and picked up a blossom； one of the few underfoot that was still intact。 〃But whatever Quaisoir knows you also know；〃 he said。 〃At least about how it all came apart。〃
〃How what came apart？〃
〃The Reconciliation。 You were there。 Oh； yes； I know you think you're just an innocent bystander； but there's nobody in this； nobody； who's innocent。 Not Estabrook； not Godolphin； not Gentle or his mystif。 They've all got confessions as long as their arms。〃
〃Even you？〃 she asked him。
〃Ah； well； with me it's different。〃 He sighed；