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one by one I found those who had done it." His eyes were wild. "I found them." He sighed. "I caught them and I smashed them with the brick." His hand pounded the air. "I smashed them over and^over and over." He took a deep breath, then stood still.
    "I found them. I didn't kill them. I found them and afterwards they never drew either." He sat down, not looking at her. "Terrel was thirteen. I was eleven . . ." The room was quiet. Sarah stared at Cade, but he would not look at her. She realized he was embarrassed. He had told her something that he hadn't had to, at least not that way. He had showed her his secret. In it
    she knew was the real Cade, the answer to all his riddles, but she could not see it. All she could think of was Cade. He had only been about Toth's age . . .
    "Sarah—" Now his voice was soft, and he hadn't used that tone with her before. "Whoever killed him knew; knew what had happened to him; knew of his fears."
    "He still had nightmares," she answered.
    "I thought so. They knew, Sarah, and I don't know how. But I do know the answer is in Downwind. And it's there I have to go . . ." Cade stood at the end of the decrepit bridge. Across its rotting length lay his goal—Downwind.
    The smell from the slow-moving White Foal River was noxious, full of refuse and dead things. Cade ignored it. After all, it should smell like home to him.
    He wore old riding leathers with a weather-stained cloak thrown over them. He carried his sword openly, though several other weapons were 32 AFTERMATH
    concealed about his body. He looked like a down-and-out mercenary, between jobs, but one who knew his business well. Tough enough looking that the dregs of Downwind would leave him alone, obscure enough not to draw attention, except from those who noticed the warbraid and knew what it meant.
    The answer was here in Downwind. At first Cade thought he would have to find Zip, the leader of PFLS, and now apparently one of the military officers of Sanctuary. Cade didn't want to deal with the powers of Sanctuary if he could help it. There were several he'd rather not have
    to tangle with if possible. Take that madwoman Chenaya, building an army of gladiators. He smiled at the thought. Gladiators! Gladiators made poor soldiers, and were hardly equipped for the streets of Sanctuary. Everybody was insane here . . . It seemed Zip had made several mistakes, and the PFLS had fractured into at least three recognizable factions. The hard-core stayed loyal to their charismatic leader, but some of the less patriotic and more powerminded had gone their own way. Cade followed the trail that led to money, and in a town like Sanctuary there were three quick ways of making money; prostitution, drugs, and slavery. The whorehouses were well controlled here. They were an important part of Sanctuary's economy. And the slavery, well it seemed Jubal used to control that, probably
    still did, but there were rumors on the streets of a new organization. But whoever they were, they weren't in business yet when Terrel was caught, so the answer was drugs. That's where the faint trail became as clear as a paved road. Whatever Terrel had run first, he had ended up running drugs, something Cade doubted his brother had been too pleased about. That didn't fit into his image of a revolution. But the goals of the
    revolution had been revised, and the new rules were made here, in Downwind. The many gangs of Downwind had become more entrenched in the last few years, less like youth gangs and more like organized crime families. The largest, next to the beggar king's, was a gang called the Sharp
    Side. A gang that ran a good portion of Downwind, a gang that controlled Cade's old turf and it seemed, much more. A gang that had originally been part of the PFLS, but had re-formed in the last months, re-formed to take control of some of the contacts once run by Zip. A gang that now ran a third of the drug trade in Sanctuary. So. It had all been there, easy to read, once you saw