pocket he brought a little cube of enamelled wood that, with a click of springs and hinges, expanded into a small chess board. Thirty-two small figures in black and white spilled from felt-lined pockets on the board's underside.
  "That's a clever item," said Merdenne admiringly. "Your own design?"
  "Yes." Ambrose shuffled two of the pieces about in his hands, then extended his closed fists across the table. Mer denne hesitated before tapping one of his opponent's fists. "Just a game, right?" he said cautiously. "You won't win here what you've lost on the larger board â the world, that is."
  Ambrose nodded. "Just a game." He opened the fist that Merdenne then tapped, revealing the White Queen. "Your move."
  The pieces were quickly arranged in their places, and Merdenne pushed his queen's pawn forward. Ambrose met it with his own, but before Merdenne could con tinue his opening, a crash of dinnerware sounded beside the table.
  "Excuse me, sirs," mumbled a red-faced waiter, gather ing up his spilled tray. "Don't know what I come to stumble over." He shot a suspicious glance at Ambrose's feet, but they were both under the table once more.
  Merdenne looked annoyed as his hand moved toward one of his knights. "Not exactly the most conducive atmos phere for concentration," he muttered. "Suleiman would have had the noisy lout beheaded."
  "The noise at least is easily taken care of." Ambrose closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and held it. When he exhaled and opened his eyes the restaurant was empty except for the two of them. Silence flowed over the unoccupied chairs.
  "That's quite thoughtful of you," said Merdenne. "Now we can have a proper game. Finish off the Latour, if you wish."
  Ambrose's pale hand tilted the bottle over his glass, but only a whisper of dry dust emerged. His opponent didn't notice.
  "Now where'd they go?" said the waiter who had first noticed them. "Them two look-alikes, I mean. I'm blowed if they haven't up and vanished!"
  "So?" said the other. "It's not one of your tables, is it?"Â
Â
I drew out my pocket watch and checked the time. "Ambrose has been gone for half an hour," I whispered to Tafe.
  She nodded, standing beside me in the dark alley that ran alongside Merdenne's clinic. From under her coat she drew the coil of rope Ambrose had given us to use. As I followed her to the railings of the high iron fence surrounding the clinic's grounds, I fervently hoped that Ambrose's plans for diverting Merdenne's attention had gone off smoothly. The sight of Ambrose's uncanny double leaving an hour ago for his favourite restaurant as we crouched in our hiding place in the alley had unnerved me more than slightly. As Tafe and I had waited per Ambrose's instructions, the dark shape of the clinic had seemed to grow ever larger as it sat hulking under the moonless sky.
  Tafe threw the rope's looped end over one of the fence's sharp-pointed finials, then deftly clambered up and dropped on the other side. A little more clumsily, my hands barely keeping purchase on the rope's knotted length, I came after her, landing ungracefully upon the manicured lawn.
  "Quiet!" whispered Tafe. We huddled by the fence for several anxious seconds, until we were sure that no one in the clinic had heard us. "Come on." Tafe jerked the rope free from the fence and wadded it under her coat again as she darted hunched-over toward the clinic.
  She reached the side of the building without incident, but before I was more than halfway across the ground, a large shape, snarling viciously, bounded from the other side of a hedge and bowled me over. The red eyes of the largest mastiff I had ever seen glared at me as its slavering jaws snapped inches from my throat. The dog's spittle trailed in threads across my face. Pinned to the ground, only my forearms and knees brought above me kept the dog's lunging bulk
  "That's a clever item," said Merdenne admiringly. "Your own design?"
  "Yes." Ambrose shuffled two of the pieces about in his hands, then extended his closed fists across the table. Mer denne hesitated before tapping one of his opponent's fists. "Just a game, right?" he said cautiously. "You won't win here what you've lost on the larger board â the world, that is."
  Ambrose nodded. "Just a game." He opened the fist that Merdenne then tapped, revealing the White Queen. "Your move."
  The pieces were quickly arranged in their places, and Merdenne pushed his queen's pawn forward. Ambrose met it with his own, but before Merdenne could con tinue his opening, a crash of dinnerware sounded beside the table.
  "Excuse me, sirs," mumbled a red-faced waiter, gather ing up his spilled tray. "Don't know what I come to stumble over." He shot a suspicious glance at Ambrose's feet, but they were both under the table once more.
  Merdenne looked annoyed as his hand moved toward one of his knights. "Not exactly the most conducive atmos phere for concentration," he muttered. "Suleiman would have had the noisy lout beheaded."
  "The noise at least is easily taken care of." Ambrose closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and held it. When he exhaled and opened his eyes the restaurant was empty except for the two of them. Silence flowed over the unoccupied chairs.
  "That's quite thoughtful of you," said Merdenne. "Now we can have a proper game. Finish off the Latour, if you wish."
  Ambrose's pale hand tilted the bottle over his glass, but only a whisper of dry dust emerged. His opponent didn't notice.
  "Now where'd they go?" said the waiter who had first noticed them. "Them two look-alikes, I mean. I'm blowed if they haven't up and vanished!"
  "So?" said the other. "It's not one of your tables, is it?"Â
Â
I drew out my pocket watch and checked the time. "Ambrose has been gone for half an hour," I whispered to Tafe.
  She nodded, standing beside me in the dark alley that ran alongside Merdenne's clinic. From under her coat she drew the coil of rope Ambrose had given us to use. As I followed her to the railings of the high iron fence surrounding the clinic's grounds, I fervently hoped that Ambrose's plans for diverting Merdenne's attention had gone off smoothly. The sight of Ambrose's uncanny double leaving an hour ago for his favourite restaurant as we crouched in our hiding place in the alley had unnerved me more than slightly. As Tafe and I had waited per Ambrose's instructions, the dark shape of the clinic had seemed to grow ever larger as it sat hulking under the moonless sky.
  Tafe threw the rope's looped end over one of the fence's sharp-pointed finials, then deftly clambered up and dropped on the other side. A little more clumsily, my hands barely keeping purchase on the rope's knotted length, I came after her, landing ungracefully upon the manicured lawn.
  "Quiet!" whispered Tafe. We huddled by the fence for several anxious seconds, until we were sure that no one in the clinic had heard us. "Come on." Tafe jerked the rope free from the fence and wadded it under her coat again as she darted hunched-over toward the clinic.
  She reached the side of the building without incident, but before I was more than halfway across the ground, a large shape, snarling viciously, bounded from the other side of a hedge and bowled me over. The red eyes of the largest mastiff I had ever seen glared at me as its slavering jaws snapped inches from my throat. The dog's spittle trailed in threads across my face. Pinned to the ground, only my forearms and knees brought above me kept the dog's lunging bulk
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