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must be an exact image. Which brings me to my second point. You need to also develop some expertise with dimensional travel into other universes, so I'm going to assign you some help from someone who has a talent for the creation of portals, among other things."
    Kochanski shrugged. "Okay by me. Can he help me with those models you want, too?"
    He started to feel uneasy when Jartan began to laugh.
    "It's 'she,' Kochanski. And you will be surprised at what she can do."
    The woman in the mirror was very beautiful, of that she felt no doubt. But how old? Leaning back in her chair, Patrice gazed at the reflection before her.
    She let the image shift slightly, creasing away the first faint lines that traced outward from the eyes, erasing the darkness beneath them into a smooth glow of youth.
    But the eyes themselves, she thought sadly. I can still work subtle changes on my features, but my eyes will never lose that edge of hardness. Never again could she look out at the world with the doelike innocence that had been such a charm thousands of years before.
    She had seen far too much, and felt and lost far too much. Perhaps that innocence was lost when Kavan had so foully betrayed her. She had never meant to kill him, she thought sadly, only to let him know that it was not wise to cheat on the daughter of a god. How she had mourned her first lover. As for the young creature who had perished with him, she had no such thoughts. After all, the girl had deserved it for hunting upon someone else's grounds.
    "Perhaps that was when the innocence fell away," she whispered sadly.
    Was it Kavan's fault, or was it after she had truly lost count, and no longer cared? There had been that brief moment again when Traciea had been born--but then how long ago was that? Three millennia? And Traciea, who had never gained the Essence--the father's fault undoubtedly, whatever his name was. She had watched poor Traciea grow, remain barren, and in the end drift into horrifying senility. That, perhaps, was what had caused the first lines of hardness to settle in as she, still young after a thousand years, saw her child grow old, wither, and die in her arms.
    She had borne no children since.
    Patrice automatically locked the hurt away and moved on with her musings. There had always been other games to play; and in them there were no emotions to tangle in, no unfeeling males who would use, laugh, and drift away. Men might try to use her that way, but they had at least learned to fear her.
    As her concentration waned, the faint lines and shadows returned to her features. Yet she could still see the cold beauty of her form. Her hair had not faded at least, flowing in an amber cascade over her shoulders to cover her full breasts, then drift over her narrow waist to end in a filigree of curls around the fullness of her hips. Smiling, her features appeared almost youthful--except for the eyes.
    Ulinda's slim hand came to rest on her shoulder. Patrice looked up, smiled, and came to her feet.
    "Do you bring good news?"
    "Yes, my lady," replied Ulinda. "Imada, who is the younger of the two outlanders we captured, is finally ready for the next step."
    "Do you enjoy your work with him?" Patrice asked with a knowing smile.
    "Yes, my lady, I must admit I do. He's so gentle and trusting. The other one is taking more time, but I am gradually breaking him down too."
    "Just see you don't get too attached. Nothing must interfere with this plan--nothing."
    "My lady, I have served you too long and have too much to gain to allow anything, much less a little puppy like Imada, to interfere with our goals."
    Patrice stared hard at her, then relaxed. Ulinda was reliable--after all, they had worked together on this plan for years.
    "If you pronounce him fit to start the operation, we will begin your final transformation tonight. By tomorrow you will be Vena, the peasant girl who saved his life and became his one true love."
    Again she paused. "Are you certain of your readiness