And he’d found it a new sacrifice, a special gift that one of his girls had brought him. The girl wanted a job on the Street of Lanterns and deliver- ance from Ratfall. In exchange for what she’d found on the Downwind beach, Zip was happy to oblige. The red-eyed thing that lived inside the stones would tike its new gift, Zip was sure.
He hunkered down beside the knee-high pile and said, “Look here, Lord, I’ve got a present for you, when we’re moved. But now I’ve got to start on the stones, by myself if you won’t let my boys help.”
He waited for a reply, but only a glimpse of a burning red eye and a sound like shifting weight came to him in response.
What was it he served here? Most times, it didn’t speak. He was prompted without words to do this or that. He’d get a feeling of a pres- ence, and the things he brought it-pieces of human flesh, skins of warm blood, precious baubles-would disappear. Was it inimical only to Rankans, or to everyone? He wanted it to be his friend. He wanted it to be the Ilsigs’ friend, guardian of the revolution, since he was bound to have one.
He wanted it to show itself, magnificent and powerful, and help bring down Zip’s enemies. So far, all it had done was take the sacrifices, give him bad dreams, and let him know it wanted to move uptown.
So did they all. So did all of Zip’s Ratfall movers, everyone trapped in the Maze and policed to wits* end. So did the twelve-year-old mothers and one-legged fathers of Zip’s revolution, which he’d never wanted. He might have disavowed the struggle if Tempus hadn’t tagged him. But Tempus had.