He nodded, having passed recollection like poison, watching the fire burn down.Then, for the sake of the soul of Stepson, called Abarsis, and under the aegisof his flesh, Tempus humbled himself before Vashanka and came again into theservice of his god.

10

Hanse, hidden below on a shelf, listening and partaking of the funeral of hisown fashion, upon realizing what he was overhearing, spurred the horse out ofthere as if the very god whose thunderous voice he had heard were after him.

He did not stop until he reached the Vulgar Unicorn. There he shot off the horsein a dismount which was a fall disguised as a vault, slapped the beast smartlyaway, telling it hissingly to go home, and slipped inside with such relief ashis favourite knife must feel when he sheathed it.

'One-Thumb,' Hanse called out, making for the bar, 'what is going on out there?'There had been soldierly commotion at the Common Gate.

'You haven't heard?' scoffed the night-tumed-day barman. 'Some prisoners escapedfrom the palace dungeon, certain articles were thieved from the Hall ofJudgement, and none of the regular security officers were around to get theirscoldings.'

Looking at the mirror behind the bar, Hanse saw the ugly man grin withouthumour. Gaze locked to mirror-gaze, Hanse drew the hide-wrapped bundle from histunic. 'These are for you. You are supposed to give them to your benefactor.' Heshrugged to the mirror.

One-Thumb turned and wiped the dishrag along the shining bar and when the ragwas gone, the small bundle was gone, also. 'Now, what do you want to getinvolved in something like this for? You think you're moving up? You're not.Next time, when it's this sort of thing, come round the back. Or, better, don'tcome at all. I thought you had more sense.'

Hanse's hand smacked flat and loud upon the bar. 'I have taken enough offal forone day, cup-bearer. Now I tell you what you do, Wide-Belly: You take what Ibrought you and your sage counsel, and you wrap it all together, and then yousquat on it!' And stiff-kneed as a roused cat, Shadowspawn stalked away,towards the door, saying over his shoulder: 'As for sense, I thought you hadmore.'

'I have my business to think of,' called out One-Thumb, too boldly for awhine. 'Ah, yes! So have I, so have I.'

11

Lavender and lemon dawn light bedizened the white-washed barracks' walls andcoloured the palace parade grounds.

Tempus had been working all night, out at Jubal's estate where he was quarteringhis mercenaries away from town and Hell Hounds and Ilsig garrison personnel. Hehad fifty there, but twenty of them were paired members of three differentSacred Bands: Stepson's legacy to him. The twenty had convinced the thirtynonallied operatives that 'Stepsons' would be a good name for their squadron,and for the cohort it would eventually command should things go as everyonehoped.

He would keep the Sacred Band teams and spread the rest throughout the regulararmy, and throughout the prince's domain. They would find what clay they chose,and mould a division from it of which the spirit of Abarsis, if it were not toobusy fighting theomachy's battles in heaven, could look upon with pride. The menhad done Tempus proud, already, that night at

Jubal's, and thereafter; and this evening when he had turned the comer round theslave barracks the men were refitting for livestock, there it had been, a lovenote written in lamb's blood two cubits high on the encircling protective wall:'War is all and king of all, and all things come into being out of strife.'

Albeit they had not got it exactly right, he had smiled, for though the worldand the boyhood from out of which he had said such audacious things was gone totime. Stepson, called Abarsis, and his legacy of example and followers madeTempus think that perhaos (oh just perhaps) he, Tempus, had not been soyoung, or so foolish, as he had lately come to think that he had been. And, if thus the man, then his epoch, too, was freed of memory's hindsightfultaint.

And the god and he were reconciled: This pushed away his curse and the shadow ofdistress it cast ever before him. His troubles with the prince had subsided.Zaibar had come through his test of fire and returned to stand his duty,thinking deeply, walking quietly. His courage would mend. Tempus knew his sort.

Jubal's disposition he had left to Kadakithis. He had wanted to take the famousex-gladiator's measure in single combat, but there was no fitness in it now,since the man would never be quick on his feet, should he live to regain the useof them.

Not that the world was as ridiculously beautiful as was the arrogant summermorning which did not understand that it was a Sanctuary morning and thereforeshould at least be gory, garish or full of flies buzzing about his head. No, onecould find a few thorns in one's path, still. There was Shadowspawn, calledHanse, exhibiting unseemly and proprietary grief over Abarsis whenever it servedhim, yet not taking a billet among the Stepsons that Tempus had offered.Privately, Tempus thought he might yet come to it, that he was trying to steptwice into the same river. When his feet chilled enough, he would step out on tothe banks of manhood. If he could sit a horse better, perhaps his pride wouldlet him join in where now, because of that, he could only sneer.

Hanse, too, must find his own path. He was not Tempus's problem, though Tempuswould gladly take on that burden should Shadowspawn ever indicate a desire tohave help toting it.

His sister, Cime, however, was his problem, his alone, and the enormity of thatconundrum had him casting about for any possible solution, taking pat answers upand putting them down like gods move seeds from field to field. He could killher, rape her, deport her; he could not ignore her, forget her, or sufferalong without confronting her.

That she and One-Thumb had become enamoured of one another was something he hadnot counted on. Such a thing had never occurred to him.

Tempus felt the god rustling around in him, the deep cavernous sensing in hismost private skull that told him the deity was going to speak. Silently! hewarned the god. They were uneasy with each other, yet, like two lovers after atrial separation.

We can take her, mildly, and then she will leave. You cannot tolerate herpresence. Drive her off. I will help thee, spake Vashanka.

'Must you be so predictable, Pillager?' Tempus mumbled under his breath, so thatAbarsis's Tros horse swivelled its ears back to eavesdrop. He slapped its neck,and told it to continue on straight and smartly. They were headed towardsLastel's modest eastside estate.

Constancy is one of My attributes, jibed the god in Tempus's head meaningfully.

'You are not getting her, 0 Ravening One. You who are never satisfied, in thisone thing, will not triumph. What would we have between us to keep it clear whois whom? I cannot allow it.'

You will, said Vashanka so loud in his head that he winced in his saddle and theTros horse broke stride, looking reproachfully about at him to see what thatshift of weight could possibly be construed to mean.

Tempus stopped the horse in the middle of the cool shadowed way on thatbeautiful morning and sat stiffly a long while, conducting an internal battlewhich had no resolution.

After a time, he swung the horse back in its tracks, kicked it into a lopetowards the barracks from which he had just come. Let her stay with One-Thumb,if she would. She had come between him and his god before. He was not ready togive her to the god, and he was not ready to give himself back into the hands ofhis curse, rip asunder what had been so laboriously patched together and at suchgreat cost. He thought of Abarsis, and Kadakithis, and the refractory upcountrypeoples, and he promised Vashanka any other woman the god should care to choosebefore sundown. Cime would keep, no doubt, right where she was. He would see toit that Lastel saw to her.