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'Behind you!'
Tempus had known the one last hawk-mask was there. But this was not the boy's battle. Tempus had made a choice. He ducked and threw his weight sideways, reining the horse down with all his might. The sword, a singing one, sonata'd over his head, shearing hairs. His horse, overbalanced, fell heavily, screaming, pitching, rolling onto his left leg. Pi
When Tempus sorted it out, he allowed that the horse had killed the hawk-mask at the same time the hawk-mask had disembowelled the horse.
But he had to finish it. It lay there thrashing pathetically, deep groans coming from it. He stood over it uncertainly, then knelt and stroked its muzzle. It snapped at him, eyes rolling, demanding to die. He acceded, and the dust in his eyes hurt so much they watered profusely.
Its legs were still kicking weakly when he heard a movement, turned on his good leg, and stared.
Shadowspawn was methodically stripping the hawk-masks of their arms and valuables.
Hanse did not notice Tempus, as he limped away. Or he pretended he did not. Whichever, there was nothing left to say.
5
When he reached the Weaponshop, his leg hardly pained him. It was numb; it no longer throbbed. It would heal flawlessly, as any wound he took always healed. Tempus hated it.
Up to the Weaponshop's door he strode, as the dawn spilled gore onto Sanctuary's alleys.
He kicked it; it opened wide. How he despised supernal battle, and himself when his preternatural abilities came into play.
'Hear me, Vashanka! I have had enough! Get this sidewalk stand out of here!'
There was no answer. Within, everything was dim as dusk, dim as the pit of unknowingness which spawned day and night and endless striving.
There were no weapons here for him to see, no counter, no proprietor, no rack of armaments pulsing and humming expectantly. But then, he already had his. One to a customer was the rule: one body; one mind; one swing through life.
He trod mists tarnished like the grey horse's coat. He trod a long corridor with light at its ending, pink like new begi
'Where are You, Vashanka, 0 Slaughter Lord?'
Right here, resounded the voice within his head. But Tempus was not going to listen to any internal voice. Tempus wanted confrontation.
'Materialize, you bastard!'
I already have; one body; one mind; one life - in every sphere.
'I am not you!' Tempus screamed through clenched teeth, willing firm footing beneath his sinking feet.
No, you are not. But I am you, sometimes, said the nimbus-wreathed figure striding towards him over gilt-edged clouds. Vashanka: so very tall with hair the colour of yarrow honey and a high brow free from lines.
'Oh, no...'
You wanted to see Me. Look upon Me, servant!
'Not so close, Pillager. Not so much resemblance. Do not torture me, My God! Let me blame it all on You - not be You!'
So many years, and you yet seek self-delusion?
'Definitely. As do You, if You think to gather worshippers in this fashion! 0 Berserker God, You ca
Speaking of prostitutes, did you see your sister? Look at Me!
Tempus had to obey. He faced the manifestation of Vashanka, and recalled that he could not take a woman in gentleness, that he could but war. He saw his battles, ranks parading in endless eyes of storm and blood bath. He saw the Storm God's consort, His own sister whom He raped eternally, moaning on Her couch in anguish that Her blood brother would ravish Her so.
Vashanka laughed.
Tempus snarled wordlessly through frozen lips.
You should have let us have her.
'Never!' Tempus howled. Then: '0 God, leave off! You are not increasing Your reputation among these mortals, nor mine! This was an ill-considered venture from the outset. Go back to Your heaven and wait. I will build Your temple better without Your maniacal aid. You have lost all sense of proportion. The Sanc-tuarites will not worship one who makes of their town a battlefield!'
Tempus, do not be wroth with Me. I have My own troubles, you know. I have to get away every now and again. And you have not been warring, whined the god, for so very long. I am bored and I am lonely.
'And You have caused the death of my horse!' Tempus spat, and broke free of Vashanka, wrenching his mind loose from the mirror mind of his god with an effort of will greater than any he had ever mounted before. He turned in his steps and began to retrace them. The god called to him over his shoulder, but he did not look back. He put his feet in the smudges they had left in the clouds as he had walked among them, and the farther he trudged, the more substantial those clouds became.
He trekked into lighter darkness, into a soft, new sunrise, into a pink and lavender morning which was almost Sanctuary's. He continued to walk until the smell of dead fish and Downwind pollution assailed his nostrils. He strode on, until a weed tripped him and he fell to his knees in the middle of a damp and vacant lot.
He heard a cruel laugh, and as he looked up he was thinking that he had not made it back at all - that Vashanka was not through punishing him.
But to his right was the Vulgar Unicorn, to his left the palimpsest tenement wall. And before him stood one of the palace eunuchs, come seeking him with a summons from Kittycat to discuss what might be done about the Weaponshop said to be manifesting next to the Vulgar Unicorn.
'Tell Kadakithis,' said Tempus, arduously gaining his feet, 'that I will be there presently. As you can see...' He waved around him, where no structure stood or even could be proved ever to have stood '... there is no longer any Weaponshop. Therefore, there is no longer any problem, nor any urgency to attend to it. There is, however, one very irritable Hell Hound in this vacant lot who wants to be left alone.'
The blue-black eunuch exposed perfect, argent teeth. 'Yes, yes, master,' he soothed the honey-haired man. 'I can see that this is so.'
Tempus ignored the eunuch's rosy, outstretched palm, and his sneer at the Hell Hound pretending to negotiate the humpy turf without pain. Accursed Wriggly!
As the round-rumped eunuch sauntered off, Tempus decided the Vulgar Unicorn would do as well as any place to sit and sniff krrf and wait for his leg to finish healing. It ought to take about an hour - unless Vashanka was more angry at him than he estimated, in which case it might take a couple of days.