Glumly he wondered if his god could be undergoing a midlife crisis, then if hetoo was, since Vashanka and he were linked by the Law of Consonance. Certainly,Jihan's proclamation of intended rape had taken him aback. He had not been takenaback by anything in years. "Rapist, they call you, and with good reason," shehad said, reaching up under the scale-armor corselet to wriggle out of herloinguard. "We will see how you like it, in receipt of what you're used togiving out." He could not stop her, or refrain from responding to her. Cime hadinterrupted Jihan's scheduled tryst with Askelon, perhaps aborted it. The bodywhich faced him had been chosen for a woman's retribution. Later she said tohim, rubbing the imprint of her scale-armor from his loins with a high-veinedhand: "Have you never heard of letting the lady win?"

"No," he replied, genuinely puzzled. "Jihan, are you saying I was unfair?"

"Only arcane, weighting the scales to your side. Love without feeling, mindcaress, spell-excitation. ... I am new to flesh. I hope you are well chastizedand repentant," she giggled, just briefly, before his words found her ears: "Iwarn you, straight-out: those who love me die of it, and those I favor are fatedto spurn me."

"You are an arrogant man. You think I care? I should have struck you moreviciously." Her flat hand slapped, more than playfully, down upon his belly."He-" she meant Askelon "-cannot spare me any of his substance. I do this forhim, that he not look upon me hungry for a man and know shame. You saw hiswrist, where she skewered him...."

"I don't fancy a gift from him, convenient or no." He was going to pull her upbeside him, where he might casually get his hands around her fine, muscularthroat. But she sat back and retorted, "You think he would suggest this? Or evenknow of it? I take what I choose from men, and we do not discuss it. It is all Ican do for him. And you owe me whatever price I care to name-your own sistertook from me my husband before ever his lips touched mine. When my father choseme from my sisters to be sent to ease Askelon's loneliness, I had a choice-yeaor nay-and a year to make it. I studied him, and felt love enough to come tohuman flesh to claim it. To become human-you concede that I am, for argument'ssake?"

He did that-her spectacular body, sheathed in muscle, taut and sensuous, was toopowerful and yet too shapely to be mortal, but even so, he did not critique her.

"Then," she continued, rising up, hands on her impossibly slim waist, pacing asshe spoke in a rustle of armor-scales, "consider my plight. To become human forthe love of a demiurge, and then not to be able to claim him....It is done, Ihave this form, I cannot undo it until its time is up. And since I cannotcollect satisfaction from her-he has forbidden me that pleasure-all the powerson the twelfth plane agree: I may have what I wish from you. And what I wish, Ihave made quite plain." Her voice was deepening. She took a step toward him.

He objected, and she laughed, "You should see your face."

"I can imagine. You are a very attractive . . . lady, and you come withimpeccable credentials from an unimpeachable source. So if you are inexperiencedin the ways of the world, brash and awkward and ineffective because of that, Isuppose I must excuse you. Thus, I shall make allowances." His one hand raised,gestured, scooped up her loinguard and tossed it at her. "Get dressed, get outof here. Go back to your master, familiar, and tell him I do not any longer paymy sister's debts."

Then, finally, she came at him: "You mistake me. I am not asking you, I amtelling you." She reached him, crouched down, thighs together, hands on herknees, knees on what had once been Jubal the Slaver's bed. "This is a real debt,in lieu of payment for which, my patron and the elementals will exact-"

He clipped her exactly behind her right ear, and she fell across him, senseless.

Other things she had said, earlier in passion, rang in his head: that should hein any way displease her, her duty would then be plain: he and Vashanka couldboth be disciplined by way of the child they had together begotten on one ofMolin Torchholder's temple dancers.

He was not sure how he felt about that, as he was not sure how he felt aboutAskelon's offer of mortality or Vashanka's cowardice, or the positives andnegatives of his sister's self-engendered fate.

He gave the unconscious woman over to his Stepsons with instructions that madethe three he had hailed grin widely. He could not estimate how long they wouldbe able to hold her- however long they managed it, it had better be long enough.The Stepson who had come from seeking Niko in Sanctuary found him, garbed forbusiness, saddling a Tros horse in the stables.

"Stealth said," the gruff, sloe-eyed commando reported: " 'She said stay out ofit, no need to fear.' He's staying with the archmage, or whatever it is. He'sgoing to the Mageguild party and suggests you try and drop by." A feral grinstole over the mercenary's face. He knew something was up. "Need anybody on yourright for this, commander?"

Tempus almost said no, but changed his mind and told the Stepson to get a freshhorse and his best panoply and meet him at the Mageguild's outer gate.

5

There was a little mist in the streets by the time Tempus headed his Tros horseacross the east side toward the Mageguild-nothing daunting yet, just a fetlockhigh steaminess as if the streets were cobbled with dry ice. He had had no luckintercepting his sister at Lastel's estate: a servant shouted through a grate,over the barking of dogs, that the master had already left for the fete. He hadstopped briefly at the mercenaries' hostel before going there, to burn a rag hehad had for centuries in the common room's hearth: he no longer needed to bereminded not to argue with warlocks, or that love, for him, was always a losinggame. With his sister's scarf, perhaps the problem of her would waft away,changed like the ancient linen to smoke upon the air.

Before the Mageguild's outer wall, an imprudent crowd had gathered to watch theluminaries arriving in the ersatz-daylight of its ensorceled grounds. Pinkclouds formed a glowing canopy to the wall's edge-a godly pavilion; elsewhere,it was night. Where dark met light, the Stepson Janni waited, one leg crookedover his saddlehorn, rolling a smoke, his best helmet dangling by his kneeand his full-length dress-mantle draped over his horse's croup, whilearound his hips the ragged crowd thronged and his horse, ears flattened, snappedat Ilsigs who came too near.

Tempus' gray rumbled a greeting to the bay; the curly-headed mercenarystraightened up in his saddle and saluted, grinning through his beard.

He wasn't smiling when the Mageguild's ponderous doors enfolded them, and threejunior functionaries escorted them to the "changing rooms" within the outer wallwhere they were expected to strip and hand over their armaments to thesolicitously smirking mages-in-training before donning preferred "fete-clothes"(gray silk chitons and summer sandals) the wizards had thoughtfully provided.Askelon wasn't taking any chances, Tempus thought but did not say, though Janniwondered aloud what use there was in checking their paltry swords and daggerswhen enchanters could not be made to check their spells.

Inside the Mageguild's outer walls, it was summer. In its gardens-transformedfrom their usual dank fetidness by artful conjure into a wonderland of orchidsand eucalyptus and willows weeping where before moss-hung swamp-giants had heldsway over quickmires-Tempus saw Kadakithis, resolutely imperious in a black robeoversewn with gems into a map of Ranke-caught-in-the-web-of-the-world. Theprince/governor's pregnant wife, a red gift-gown splendid over her child-belly,leaned heavily on his arm. Kitty cat's approving glance was laced withcommiseration: yes, he, too, found it hard to smile here, but both of them knewit prudent to observe the forms, especially with wizards....