Shadow Of Sanctuary

He growled to himself, thinking about her, her black hair winged with grey, in Sanctuary's unsegregated dungeons where any syphilitic rapist could have her at will, while he must not touch her at all, or raise hand to help her lest he start forces in motion he could not control. His break with the god stemmed from her presence in Sanctuary, as his endless wandering as Vashanka's minion had stemmed from an altercation he had over her with a mage. If he went down into the pits and took her, the god would be placated; he had no desire to reopen relations with Vashanka, who had turned His face away from His servant. If Tempus brought her out under his own aegis, he would have the entire Mageguild at his throat; he wanted no quarrel with the Adepts. He had told her not to slay them here, where he must maintain order and the letter of the law.

By the time Kadakithis arrived in that very same chariot, its braces sticky with Wriggly blood, Tempus was in a humour darker than the drying clots, fully as dark as the odd, round cloud coming fast from the northeast.

Kadakithis's noble Rankan visage was suffused with rage, so that his skin was darker than his pale hair: 'But whyt In the name of all the gods, what did the poor little creature ever do to you? You owe me a eunuch, and an explanation.' He tapped his lacquered nails on the chariot's bronze rim.

'I have a perfect replacement in mind,' smiled Tempus smoothly, 'my lord. As for why... all eunuchs are duplicitous. This one was an information conduit to Jubal. Unless you would like to invite the slaver to policy sessions and let him stand behind those ivory screens where your favourites eavesdrop as they choose, I have acted well within my prerogatives as marshal. If my name is attached to your palace security, then your palace will be secure.'

'Bastard! How dare you even imply that / should apologize to you! When will you treat me with the proper amount of respect? You tell me all eunuchs are treacherous, the very breath after offering me another one!'

'I am giving you respect. Reverence I reserve for better men than I. When you have attained that dignity, we shall both know it: you will not have to ask. Until then, either trust or discharge me.' He waited, to see if the prince would speak. Then he continued: 'As to the eunuch I offer as replacement, I want you to arrange for his training. You like Jubal's work; send to him saying yours has met with an accident and you wish to tender another into his care to be similarly instructed. Tell him you paid a lot of money for it, and you have high hopes.'

'You have such a eunuch?'

'I will have it.'

'And you expect me to conscion your sending of an agent in there - aye, to aid you - without knowing your plan, or even the specifics of the Wriggly's confession?'

'Should you know, my lord, you would have to approve, or disapprove. As it lies, you are free of onus.'

The two men regarded each other, checked hostility jumping between them like Vashanka's own lightning in the long, dangerous pause.

Kadakithis flicked his purple mantle over his shoulder. He squinted past Tempus, into the waning day. 'What kind of cloud is that?'

Tempus swung around in his saddle, then back. 'That should be our friend from Ranke.'

The prince nodded. 'Before he arrives, then, let us discuss the matter of the female prisoner Cime.'

Tempus's horse snorted and threw its head, dancing in place. 'There is nothing to discuss.'

'But... ? Why did you not come to me about it? I could have done something, previously. Now, I ca

'I did not ask you. I am not asking you.' His voice was a blade on whetstone, so that Kadakithis pulled himself up straight. 'It is not for me to take a hand.'

'Your own sister? You will not intervene?'

'Believe what you will, prince. I will not sift through gossip with any man, be he prince or king.'

The prince lost hold, then, having been 'princed' too often back in Ranke, and berated the Hell Hound.

The man sat quite still upon the horse the prince had given him, garbed only in his loinguard though the day was fading, letting his gaze full of festering shadows rest in the prince's until Kadakithis trailed off, saying, '... the trouble with you is that anything they say about you could be true, so a man knows not what to believe.'

'Believe in accordance with your heart,' the voice like grinding Stone suggested, while the dark cloud came to hover over the beach.

It settled, seemingly, into the sand, and the horses shied back, necks outstretched, nostrils huge. Tempus had his sorrel up alongside the chariot team and was leaning down to take the lead-horse's bridle when an earsplitting clarion came from the cloud's translucent centre.

The Hell Hound raised his head then, and Kadakithis saw him shiver, saw his brow arch, saw a flicker of deepset eyes within their caves of bone and lid. Then again Tempus spoke to the chariot horses, who swivelled their ears towards him and took his counsel, and he let loose the lead-horse's bridle and spurred his own between Kadakithis's chariot and what came out of the cinereous cloud which had been so long descending upon them in opposition to the prevailing wind.

The man on the horse who could be seen within the cloud waved: a flash of scarlet glove, a swirl of burgundy cloak. Behind his tasselled steed he led another, and it was this second grey horse who again challenged the other stallions on the beach, its eyes full of fire. Farther back within the cloud, stonework could be seen, masonry like none in Sanctuary, a sky more blue and hills more virile than any Kadakithis knew.

The first horse, reins flapping, was emerging, nose and neck casting shadows upon solid Sanctuary sand; then its hooves scattered grains, and the whole of the beast, and its rider, and the second horse he led on a long tether, stood corporeal and motionless before the Hell Hound, while behind, the cloud whirled in upon itself and was gone with an audible 'pop'.

'Greetings, Riddler,' said the rider in burgundy and scarlet, as he doffed his helmet with its blood-dark crest to Tempus. 'I did not expect you, Abarsis. What could be so urgent?'

'I heard about the Tros horse's death, so I thought to bring you another, better auspiced, I hope. Since I was coming anyway, our friends suggested I bring what you require. I have long wanted to meet you.' Spurring his mount forward, he held out his hand. Red stallion and iron grey snaked arched necks, thrusting forth clacking teeth, wide-gaped jaws emitting squeals to go with flattened ears and rolling eyes. Above horse hostilities could be heard snatches of low wordplay, parry and riposte: '... disappointed that you could not build the temple'.'... welcome to take my place here and try. The foundations of the temple grounds are defiled, the priest in charge more corrupt than even politics warrants. I wash my hands ...''... with the warring imminent, how can you ... ?'

'Theomachy is no longer my burden.'

'That ca

'... hear about the insurrection, or take my leave!'

'... His name is unpronounceable, and that of his empire, but I think we all shall learn it so well we will mumble it in our sleep ...'

'I don't sleep. It is a matter of the right field officers, and men young enough not to have fought upcountry the last time.'

'I am meeting some Sacred Band members here, my old team. Can you provision us?'

'Here? Well enough to get to thecapital and do it better. Let me be the first to ...'

Kadakithis, forgotten, cleared his throat.