Quicker than Doctor Noire could flinch, the arrow flew, and her assailant recoiled, knife clattering to the floor. It had not been a perfect shot, and there was blood on the maniac's drab gown. The fingers which had wrapped so jealously around the weapon proved no match for Faelyn's marksmanship, and now the woman would lose them, if she were not lucky- if she were not already in the care of several doctors.<br/><br/>But Doctor Noire proved unsympathetic. She stepped down on the dagger's hilt with her ankle boot, that none of the other envious maniacs could collect it. So profound, her disappointment, that it seemed to chill the air, though perhaps it was only the gust and retreat of the flickering fireplace.<br/>"Take number fifty-one upstairs," came the doctor's orders.<br/>Two masked ladies from the throng took the sprawled maniac by the arms, and hauled her to stand with conviction. Doctor Noire unlocked the far door for them, and they carried the maniac, while still she was shocked, from the parlor.<br/><br/>They were not all patients. Some of them, in masks, were orderlies in disguise. One never knew one from the other, and this was surely intentional.<br/><br/>When the perfunctory violence had passed, Margaret Hotspur took refuge in Danae's protective arms. It seemed to hold the hollow desperation of prayer, for her. "That woman, Rehner, is a witch," Margaret said with venom. "She used some power on me. Why did you not stop her?"<br/><br/>Tidily Doctor Noire gave the knife a tap with her ankle boot, and sent it spinning lazily to the feet of Faelyn and Corinne and Zoe.<br/>"You have my thanks," said Doctor Noire. "Though I suspect this is yours."<br/>And it was, though it had not left the ship in Aloisa's care.