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no? Marugon leaves with his bomb.” He shrugged. “Of course, that will terminate our business relationship. You will no longer need to buy guns and bombs to sell to Marugon.” He grinned. “But it has been very profitable, yes?”
    Wycliffe laughed. “For you. And you have another fifty million dollars coming yet.”
    Kurkov gestured with his cigarette. “And profitable for you, too…you’re Vice President-Elect now, and…” He dropped his cigarette, leapt to his feet, and yanked a gun out from under his jacket. 
    Wycliffe stood. “What the hell?”
    A changeling slipped into the office, clawed fingers brushing against the carpet. 
    “What the hell is one of those things doing in here?” said Kurkov, his gun leveled at the creature. 
    Wycliffe waved a hand. “You may as well put that away, Vasily. You could empty the entire clip and not even scratch its skin. Besides, it won’t hurt us.” Not unless Marugon had overridden that compulsion. Kurkov scowled and put his weapon away. “I want to know how the thing got in here. Security should have spotted it. And I instructed them never to…”
    The changeling shuffled towards the desk, a rasping growl wheezing from its fanged mouth. It snarled, closed its eyes, and wheezed again. 
    Kurkov stepped away, revulsion on his face. “What is the miserable thing doing?”
    Wycliffe stared at it in wonder. “I think it’s trying to say something.” 
    The changeling nodded, greasy hair sliding over its pointed ears. “Mar…Mar…” 
    Wycliffe frowned. “Marugon?”
    The creature nodded. “Marugon. Where?” 
    “So it can’t find Marugon,” said Kurkov. 
    “He is in the bunker under 13A warehouse,” said Wycliffe. Marugon had holed himself up in the library over the last few weeks, muttering spells of the black magic over and over again. Wycliffe had no idea what he was doing. 
    The creature shook with a spasm, trying to force words. “Take…me. Marugon. Bitch…ice queen. The bitch.”
    Kurkov spat. “It’s lost its mind.”
    “Not that these things had any mind left to begin with,” said Wycliffe. He paused, a memory scratching at the back of his thoughts. “I remember this one! It was the first changeling I transformed. Nathan Jameson, I think. Wasn’t that his name?”
    The changeling nodded. “Ice queen.” Its voice rasped over the words. “Bitch. Find…find her. Ally. Found…” 
    Kurkov frowned. “Ally? Does it mean Ally Wester?”
    “Yes!” The changeling nodded. “Ice queen. Found. Her.” 
    Wycliffe frowned. What armed chaos would Marugon unleash now? 
    “Marugon,” rasped the changeling, interrupting Wycliffe’s thoughts. “Take. Marugon.”
    “Very well,” said Wycliffe. “I need to speak with Marugon anyway. Come along.” 
    He set out into the hallway, watching for staffers. 
    The changeling loped after him, hissing. 

    ###

    “Could you,” said Allard, shoveling more mashed potatoes onto his plate, “pass the gravy?” 
    Ally nodded and passed the gravy. Allard mumbled thanks and dumped a generous amount of gravy over the potatoes. 
    “You should not eat so much,” said Arran. “You’ll have a hard time staying awake tonight.” 
    Allard gave him an incredulous look and waved his fork over the kitchen table. “But how I can resist this food?”
    Mary snorted. “Kiss-up.” 
    Allard winked at her. “You wish.” Ally gave him a look, and Allard grinned and began shoveling potatoes into his mouth. 
    “Allard is right, you know,” said Conmager, wiping his mouth. “The food is excellent. You shall make us all fat, before you are done.” 
    Ally grinned. “And you even made enough to satisfy Lithon.”
    Lithon rolled his eyes. “But I was hungry.” 
    Mary blushed and looked at her plate. “It’s no big deal. Someone has to do the cooking, and if Arran cooked, we’d have nothing but stew and jerky every day.” 
    They ate in silence for a moment. Ally was not hungry, but she ate a