When they dismounted at the Alekeep, he had come to a negotiated settlementwithin himself: he would wait to see if what Tempus said was true, if his maatwould return to him once his teammate's spirit ascended to heaven on a pillarof flame. He was not unaware of the rhythmic nature of enlightenment throughthe precession of events. He had come to Ranke with his partner at Abarsis'urging; he remembered the Slaughter Priest from his early days of ritual andwar, and had made his own decision, not followed blindly because his left-sideleader wished to teach Ran kans the glory of his name. When the elder fighterhad put it to him, his friend had said that it might be time for Nikodemos tolead his own team-after Ranke, without doubt, the older man would lay down hissword. He had been dreaming, he had said, of mother's milk and waving cropsand snot-nosed brats with wooden shields, a sure sign a man is done with dampcamps and bloody dead stripped in the field.

So it would have happened, this year, or the next, that he would be alone. Hemust come to terms with it; not whine silently like an abandoned child, or seeka new and stronger arm to lean on. Meditation should have helped him, though herecalled a parchment grin and a toothless mouth instructing him that what isneeded is never to be had without price.

The price of the thick brown ale in which the Alekeep specialized was doubledfor the holiday's night-long vigil, but they paid not one coin, drinking,instead, in a private room in back where the grateful owner led them: he hadheard about the manifestation at the Mageguild, and had been glad he had takenNiko's advice and kept his girls inside. "Can I let them out, then?" he saidwith a twinkling eye. "Now that you are here? Would the Lord Marshal and hisdistinguished Stepsons care for some gentle companionship, this jolly eve?"

Tempus, flexing his open hand on which the clear serum glistened as it thickenedinto scabby skin, told him to keep his children locked up until dawn, and senthim away so brusquely Janni eyed Niko askance.

Their commander sat with his back against the wall opposite the door throughwhich the tavern's owner had disappeared. "We were followed here. I'd like tothink you both realized it on your own."

The placement of their seats, backs generously offered to any who might enter,spoke so clearly of their failure that neither said a word, only moved theirchairs to the single table's narrow sides. When next the door swung open, OneThumb, not their host, stood there, and Tempus chuckled hoarsely in the hulkingwrestler's face. "Only you, Lastel? I own you had me worried."

"Where is she, Tempus? What have you done with her?" Lastel stomped forward, putboth ham-hands flat upon the table, his thick neck thrust forward, bulging withveins.

"Are you tired of living, One-Thumb? Go back to your hidey-hole. Maybe she'sthere, maybe not. If not... easy come, easy go."

Lastel's face purpled; his words rode on a froth of spray so that Janni reachedfor his dagger and Niko had to kick him.

"Your sister's disappeared and you don't care?"

"I let Cime snuggle up with you in your thieves' shanty. If I had 'cared,' wouldI have done that? And did I care, I would have to say to you that you aspirebeyond your station, with her. Stick to whoremistresses and street urchins, infuture. Or go talk to the Mageguild, or your gods if you have the ears of any.Perhaps you can reclaim her for some well-bartered treachery or a block ofGaronne krrf. Meanwhile, you who are about to become 'No-Thumbs,' mark thesetwo-" He gestured to either side, to Niko and Janni. "They'll be around to seeyou in the next few days, and I caution you to treat them with the utmostdeference. They can be very temperamental. As for myself, I have had easierdays, and so am willing to estimate for you your chances of walking out of herewith all appendages yet attached and in working order, though your odds arelessening with every breath I have to watch you take...." Tempus was rising ashe spoke. Lastel gave back, his flushed face paling visibly as Tempusproposed a new repository for his prosthetic thumb, then retreated withsurprising alacrity toward the half-open door in which the tavern's owner nowstood uncertainly, now disappeared.

But Lastel was not fast enough; Tempus had him by the throat. Holding him offthe ground, he made One-Thumb mouth civil farewells to both the Stepsons beforehe dropped him and let him dash away.

8

At sundown the next day (a perfectly natural sundown without a hint of wizardweather about it), Niko's partner's long-delayed funeral was held before thereplied stones of Vashanka's field altar, out behind the arena where once hadbeen a slaver's girl-run. A hawk heading home flew over, right to left, mostauspicious of bird omina, and when it had gone, the men swore, Abarsis' ghostmaterialized to guide the fallen mercenary's spirit up to heaven. These twofavorable omens were attributed by most to the fact that Niko had sacrificed theenchanted cuirass Aske-lon had given him to the fire of his left-man's bier.

Then Niko released Tempus from his vow of pairbond, demurring that Nikodemoshimself had never accepted, explaining that it was time for him to be a leftside fighter, which, with Tempus, he could never be. And Janni stood closeby,looking uncomfortable and sheepish, not realizing that in this way Tempus wasfreed from worrying that harm might come to Niko on account of Tempus' curse.

Seeing Abarsis' shade, wizard-haired and wise, tawny skin quite translucent yetunswept eyes the same, smiling out love upon the Stepsons and their commander,Tempus almost wept. Instead he raised his hand in greeting, and the elegantghost blew him a kiss.

When the ceremony was done, he had sent Niko and Janni into Sanctuary to make itclear to One-Thumb that the only way to protect his dual identity was to makehimself very helpful in the increasingly difficult task of keeping track ofMygdonia's Nisibisi spies. As an immediate show of good faith, he was to beginhelping Niko and Janni infiltrate them.

When the last of the men had wandered off to game or drink or duty, he hadstayed at the shrine awhile, considering Vashanka and the god's habit of leavinghim to fight both their battles as best he could.

So it was that he heard a soft sound, half hiccough and half sniffle, from thealtar's far side, as the dusk cloaked him close.

When he went to see what it was, he saw Jihan, sitting slumped against a roughhewn plinth, tearing brown grasses to shreds between her fingers. He squatteddown there, to determine whether a Froth Daughter could shed human tears.

Dusk was his favorite time, when the sun had fled and the night was luminouswith memory. Sometimes, his thoughts would follow the light, fading, and the manwho never slept would find himself dozing, at rest.

This evening, it was not sleep he sought to chase in his private witching hour:he touched her scaled, enameled armor, its gray/green/copper pattern justdappled shadow in the deepening dark. "This does come off?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. Like so.""Come to think of it," he remarked after a strenuous but rewarding interval, "itis not so bad that you are stranded here. Your father's pique will easeeventually. Meanwhile, I have an extra Tros horse. Having two of them to tendhas been hard on me. You could take over the care of one. And, too, if you aregoing to wait the year out as a mortal, perhaps you would consider staying on inSanctuary. We are sore in need of fighting women this season."