Panic raced through Zana's body, hot and prickling. I'm dying. I'm dying on this floor, right now.

For some reason, it wasn't Galen's face that flashed before her mind's eye, or Alan's. It was Peet's, and her eyes welled up at the thought that she would never see him again. She should've found out what had made him so mad at her... she should've visited him at the racetrack...

Peet with his quick smile and his equally quick frown, and his silly fondness for that gun, and his evening lectures in the wagon, rambling on and on about the innumerable human fighting styles that he had learned back in his own time, an' you know, most people waste their time with tearing at the hands of the guy who's trying to strangle you, an' I'm saying trying to, because if you know what to do, they don't stand a snowball's chance in hell to go through with it-

Zana wished that she'd taken him up on his offer to practice those moves with her, during those long weeks of their journey up North, but she had always put it off, feeling silly to wrestle with a human...

She felt nauseous and confused, her consciousness dimming rapidly as the pressure on her throat increased.

Then Peet's voice was in her ear, as loud and clear as if he was kneeling at her side.

You know they're dumb, because they're using both their hands, while your hands and legs are free... you gotta block one of her arms, just choose one...

Left... left side... she'd choose... the left one...

So, you hook your right hand over her left wrist, an' you push against her elbow with your left hand... you wanna block her arm, y'know?

She grabbed Halda's wrist and elbow, trying to pull her hand away from her throat a bit, she was going to throw up, and it hurt-

An' now you buck! Like a horse!

She jerked her hips upward, but Halda clung on, extending her leg to the side to resist the motion.

Leg... forgot to block the leg... and now she knows what I'm trying to do...

Zana hooked her leg over Halda's, and tried again, bucking up like Ahpahchee when he had an especially bad day.

The terrible pressure on her throat lifted, as Halda was flipped over, and Zana rotated with her, still dazed, and faintly surprised to find herself on top of her all of a sudden.

She grabbed the woman's wrists to pin her arms to the ground, and stared into Halda's tense face, suddenly at a loss what to do next. She didn't dare to let go of Halda's arms to take her head into her hands and smash it against the ground, like she had done with the nurse in Maltus' clinic, and she didn't want to seriously injure the woman. But even with her head ringing, Zana realized that she wouldn't be able to restrain Halda for long.

Her nose was throbbing, and running, and for a moment, she almost let go of Halda to lean back and not drip snot all over her. Then she realized that she was dripping blood. It hit Halda's cheek and ran down to the side of her head, and into her hair.

"You can't kill me here, Halda," Zana said, her voice thick and rough through her clogged nose. "There's no way they would not know it was you - here, at this time, with all these people just on the other side of the door... Mezzal, Palia..."

Halda just screamed, a strangled, inarticulate roar, and jerked her head up and into Zana's face.

It felt as if she had been kicked by a horse; something crunched and moved inside her skull, and the pain felt as if someone was squeezing the bones behind her nose tighter and tighter, and all Zana could think of was to let go, to push away and scramble back-

Her fingertips painfully hit against the book. The one thing that would convince Rogan to investigate her involvement in this rampage... if she managed to survive the current attack. Zana yanked her arm up and smashed the book's spine into Halda's face.

Halda didn't even wince.

And then Zana had no time to think about the book, she was too busy grappling with Halda, to keep the Chimp's hands away from her throat. She managed to get a hit in, her fist connecting with Halda's chin and jerking her head back, but her arms were feeling heavy and weak, and she realized with a start that she was running out of time. She still hadn't fully recovered from her surgery, and exhaustion was setting in quickly.

Halda suddenly jerked back as if she had read her mind; too dazed to react, Zana's gaze followed her fist as it rose above Halda's head and came down again.

Straight into her belly.

It felt as if she had been hit by lightning, a slashing pain radiating from the epicenter of Halda's assault, choking her breath, freezing her limbs, and making her want to throw up. She was paralyzed, petrified, unable to prevent anything that was happening to her.

Darkness closed in on her from all sides, a malicious, tearing, choking darkness, and Galen wasn't anywhere, he was on the other side of the darkness, unable to see her, unable to find her...

She coiled up to shield herself against the creatures falling out of that darkness, trying to shield her throat, her belly, her baby, but they were tearing at her, stretching her out, and she had nothing to keep them from digging into her flesh, digging for the life in her womb, nothing, nothing but a knife-

Peet's knife. Still strapped to her arm, because he had insisted that she didn't let it out of her reach even for a moment...

The moment of clarity blinked out again, but the awareness of the weight at her arm remained. Zana squirmed, rolled around on her belly, and tried to crawl away from Halda.

A weight clamped down on her back and something hard and narrow pressed against her throat, and she felt as if she was swallowing something impossibly big, or her own tongue, and it hurt, so much, they were everywhere now, hanging on her legs, her arms, her back-

Zana broke down under that weight, arms limp above her head, the knife's hilt scraping across the floor, as she flailed weakly, the knife at her arm, the knife the knife

The weight lifted. The pressure on her throat vanished. Black spots bloomed in Zana's vision, indigo clouds that wafted and melted into each other. She wanted to throw up; she wanted to swallow, but couldn't.

When she finally pushed herself up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder, Halda was crumpled against the toppled chair, silent and unmoving. Zana stared at her, unsure of what had just happened.

The hilt of Peet's knife poked out from Halda's body. Zana's fingers flexed unconsciously, and the movement made her aware of how sticky her right hand was. She turned up her palm and stared at it. It was bright red with blood... blood that was already drying, turning rust-colored and sticky.

She looked at Halda again, understanding slowly dawning in her. Mothers, I killed her! I killed an ape! Oh merciful Mothers, oh no, oh no, oh no...

She slowly crawled over to Halda, every movement sending hot jolts of pain through her belly and into her thighs. Her throat felt swollen, and it was difficult to breathe. Her face, no, her whole skull felt smashed into a thousand pieces, like one of Halda's vases, only held together by fur and skin, and sheer stubbornness.

Zana gingerly turned Halda's body around, and almost sobbed with relief when she saw that the woman was still breathing. I didn't kill her, oh thank the Mothers!

But the knife was buried in Halda's ribcage, on the right side where the liver was, as Zana had learned from one of Galen's medical scrolls, and that was still a dangerous place to leave a knife in.

She had to get help. Halda needed a doctor at once.

Zana came to her knees, and used the desk to draw herself up on her feet, only to bowl over with pain again. That punch to her gut was still twisting her insides... what if Halda had torn a suture inside? What if she was bleeding internally? The thought made Zana dizzy, or maybe it was the lack of air from Halda's choking grip that made her sway on her feet as she stumbled towards the door.

She almost fell over the book, bent down to pick it up and hide it in her robe, and felt too weak to get up from the floor again. She crawled to the door and out into the corridor.

It was deserted. Zana closed her eyes for a moment, which was a mistake, because now the spinning in her head increased tenfold. She squinted down the corridor.

The reception was too far away. She'd never make it back to Palia.

Zana crawled on regardless, on all fours, swaying from one side to the other as if drunk, bumping her shoulder against the wall with every step. She tried to call for help, but her throat was almost completely swollen shut now, and she only managed to produce a whispered croak.

The dark spots in her vision were expanding like ink drops in water now, and the rushing in her ears drowned out all other sounds. A shadow fell over her, or maybe she was just fainting, and someone's hand was on her back, and she could hear a voice, but it was all far, far away, and she couldn't understand the words-

... and then she slipped away, into dark and empty waters.

Deep voices filtered down to where Zana was hovering, waking her up just enough to realize that she wasn't dead. She dimly remembered that she had hurt, and that pain was floating above her, at the surface.

For a while, she listened to the steady murmur of male voices, content to stay in this in-between place, safely away from the light and the pain of the waking world.

Then something wet and cold coiled around her throat.

Zana jerked up, and winced. Bright light pierced her eyes, and sent stabs of white-hot pain through her battered skull. The wet pressure slid off her neck, and she realized that it had been a piece of cloth, soaked in cold water, that someone had put around her swollen throat. She blindly searched for it, and put it back in place. Now that she knew what it was, its coolness was soothing.

Hasty steps thundered towards her, making her flinch, but she couldn't cover her ears, or the wet cloth would slide down again; and she also couldn't tell whoever this was to tread lightly, because her throat felt thick and sore, too painful to even try to speak.

Instead, she tried to open her eyes at least a tiny bit, and squinted at the shadow that was now hunkering down before her. It laid a hand on her shoulder, and somehow, the movement told her it was Galen. "Mothers, Zana! You're awake! Are you alright?"

Indignance gave her the strength to force out a whisper. "What does it look like to you?"

His fingers flexed involuntarily on her shoulder, and she regretted her outburst. "I hurt all over, Galen. But I'll live."

"You gave me quite a fright." His fingers dug harder into her shoulder. "How could you be so reckless? She could've killed you!"

It was amazing how anger could drown out pain. Maybe that's why Peet flared up so readily. Zana fully opened her eyes to glare at her fiancé. "Nobody else would've suspected her, and then who would've died next?"

"Not you," Galen murmured. Zana didn't grace him with an answer to that. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

She craned her neck to peer down the corridor - she was sitting propped up against the wall at the same spot where she had broken down, apparently - to where the door of Halda's office still stood wide open. "How is Halda? Is she... did I...?"

"She's alive," a new voice from above answered. Zana cautiously tilted her head back, and wished she hadn't. But she could meet Constable Rogan's eyes for a moment, before her lids drooped shut.

"Good," she murmured.

"At least she was, when they carried her outside," Rogan's voice continued, sinking towards the floor as he spoke. He was crouching down before her, too, like Galen had. Zana dazedly wondered if Galen would have the presence of mind to keep his jealousy in check this time. She didn't want any of them to be arrested right now. The situation was already volatile enough.

"But you stuck that knife into her liver," Rogan's voice continued, "and that's a nasty place to bury a knife. Well done."

"I don't even remember that," Zana murmured. "We fought... she tried to strangle me..."

"Do you, by any chance, remember what I told you about staying away from crime scenes?" Rogan asked. It was difficult to tell if he was angry; his voice was completely bland.

Zana fought against the urge to swallow; it was painful, and pointless, anyway, since her throat and mouth were parched. "She was laundering money for Olman... she admitted to strangling Felga while we fought..."

"That seems to be her method of choice," Rogan commented dryly. "Well, Dr. Aldo is doing everything he can to save her life, so that we can hang her properly. And I'll need your statement later."

His casual words sent a chill through Zana. Yes, she had wanted to stop Halda - someone had to. And it was only right that Halda would have to answer for her crimes before the court. But Zana hadn't followed that train of thought down to its inevitable consequence: that if Halda was found guilty of those crimes, she would have to face the usual punishment for it.

Halda's words were ringing in her ears. "She has two little children," Zana murmured. "What will become of them?"

"They'll live with some relatives," Rogan said, his shrug almost audible. "She should've thought of them before she tried to kill you."

Zana felt for the book under her robe. To her surprise, it was still there, tucked under her belt. She pulled it out, and handed it to Rogan, who took it with an intrigued frown.

"What's that?"

"Halda's secret accounting book," Zana whispered. "Her insurance against Olman, I suppose, and proof that she laundered money for Olman... and you have to wonder why he'd need to launder money in the first place..." She tiredly watched as Rogan began to flip through the pages. "The rates for the shelter are the same as..."

"Yes, I see it," Rogan murmured gleefully. He closed the book with a snap, and grinned at her. "Alta, sweetheart, that was some nice detective work you done there. Are you sure you don't want to join the force?"

Zana took a quick inventory of her aches and pains, including her shoulder that had begun to feel sore from Galen's fingers that were digging hard into her joint now, and smiled weakly. "I'm sure, Rogan, but thanks for the offer." She laid her hand on Galen's, and felt his fingers relax under hers. "I only wanted to make right by a friend. I'm not cut out to hunt murderers for a living."

Rogan tapped the book against his knee. "Well, this will get old Olman into a pickle he can't buy his way out of."

"She killed Felga, when Felga found out," Zana whispered. "I don't think Felga was killed with a racer's bandage, Rogan. Halda has scarves..." She remembered the blue thread in the chip box that was tucked away under her bed, together with the rest of the stolen evidence, and decided to tell Rogan later. When she could stand without support.

"Don't worry, Alta, we'll turn her hut inside out, just like the shelter," Rogan said, the glint of the hunt bright in his eyes. "Whatever else she's hiding, we'll find it."

He turned his head when new steps announced another arrival. "Aldo should've sent for a transport by now - you're not his priority, obviously, but he said he wanted to examine you after he..."

His voice trailed away, and he stiffened with a frown. Zana followed his gaze; it wasn't some nurse who came down the hallway, but Junior, his face a thunderous scowl. She hoped it wasn't his only facial expression. Maybe it was just the sight of her that turned the young guard so sour...

Rogan rose. "What's it now?"

Junior pulled him a few steps aside and broke into furious muttering. Rogan listened, laughed, and turned back to Zana with a sigh.

"I swear, life has never been as, ah, lively, before you arrived here, Alta," he said with an exasperated grin. "Your human is down at the stadium - on a horse, no less - holding Olman at gunpoint, and demanding the release of your other human. Care to tell me what this is all about, before I give Junior permission to deal with it? And how in Cesar's name did your human get its hands on a gun and ammunition?"

Zana stared at him for a moment, too stunned for words, then turned her head to gape at Galen. She didn't dare to ask him, mostly because her throbbing head couldn't remember which name he was currently using.

Galen straightened. "I gave him the gun," he said, and Zana could hear the slight tremble in his calm voice, "and I allowed him to get our other human back by whatever means necessary."

Zana closed her eyes. Trust the men to turn this into an absolute disaster...

"Didn't you sell your other human to Olman for an outrageous price?" she heard Rogan ask, his voice still vacillating between amusement and exasperation. "It was the talk of town."

"No, he, he tricked me," Galen stuttered.

"At thirty thousand sembles, I'd say he tricked himself," Rogan said dryly.

Zana cut in, before Galen could dig himself into an even deeper hole. "It was my fault - I had sent my husband to Olman's office, to find out where he was in the night of Felga's murder, and he... Olman turned up all of a sudden, and surprised him, and, well, he needed a good reason to be there, didn't he? But we never intended to sell Dehni."

Rogan made a noise that was a mixture of a groan, a laugh, and a sigh. "Oh Alta... I take back my offer - you'd sell the watch house in the course of your investigations. Well. Pretense or not, that's something a court has to decide, not a human with a gun. That could get you in trouble, Faro, but considering your wife aided our investigation with a piece of substantial evidence, I'm willing to forget this ever happened, if you manage to talk down your human."

"I... I'm not sure he'll listen to me," Galen said weakly. "They are close..."

Rogan narrowed his eyes. "Let me make this a bit clearer for you, Faro: you're in deep trouble right now, no matter what Alta did. I'm doing this for her sake, not yours. Considering the new evidence against Olman," he held up Halda's book, "I'm willing to confiscate the human until the question of ownership has been cleared up. So he won't have to go with Olman right now. But that's as far as I'm willing to go. You talk down your crazy human, or I'll give my men permission to fire at will."

Zana peeled Galen's hand from her shoulder. "Go," she whispered urgently. "Don't let anything happen to them!"

He shot her a last, worried glance, before he scrambled to his feet and followed Junior outside.

Rogan called for Palia, and told her to stay with Zana until the sick transport arrived. Then he crouched down before Zana and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. He stretched out a hand, and gently touched her face. "I think she broke your nose there."

"She has a mean punch," Zana whispered. "So much anger under that sweet surface."

"I meant what I said," Rogan murmured. "That was good detective work. Your tenacity has paid off. I bow to your diligence and dedication."

"I was mostly fumbling in the dark," Zana said uncomfortably. "No need to praise me like that."

Rogan smiled at her. "You're too humble, Alta. I really wonder how you ended up with a guy like Faro."

"He's a good man," Zana said quickly. "He's just... he doesn't know how to deal with our loss..."

It was true, she realized. Galen hadn't been avoiding her; he had been running from his own grief. He would never be a father, not if he stayed with her. She had never thought of that before, only grieved her own loss.

"Is there nothing you can do to save my human from Olman, Rogan?" she pleaded. "I never meant to sacrifice anyone to catch Felga's murderer. It's not right that he should have to pay for my mistake."

"Looks more like your husband's mistake, from where I'm standing," Rogan muttered. "I won't promise you anything, Alta, but depending on what kind of dirt I find on Olman, maybe I can bury this whole thing under a mountain of paperwork. If Olman is too busy fending off a lawsuit, maybe he'll forget about it, too. Did you already receive money for the human?"

Zana mutely shook her head, praying to the Mothers that Galen hadn't been that stupid.

Rogan rose. "Well, that's something at least. I need to go - I have offices to seal, arrests to make." The rakish grin was back. "I wish you could stay in Sapan, Alta - my job would become so much more exciting."

He left, and Zana tiredly let her head drop against the wall and closed her eyes, doing her best to ignore Palia, who was putting a new cloth, dripping with cold water, around her neck.

You have no idea what you just wished for, Rogan, she thought. Believe me, you wouldn't want my kind of excitement.

I just hope we can leave quickly enough that it doesn't catch up with us here.