10 – Aftermath by Asprin, Robert

One way or the other, he’d let the matter of the talisman go if she’d just give him a chance. How he was going to keep Kama with him tonight, Crit couldn’t fathom, but he was going to give it a try. Torchholder would have to make do with a written report. It was just too damned cold in Sanctuary to sleep alone tonight.

The sky was beginning to lighten, turning regal above the temple tops. Zip’s black sweatband was sopping though the waning night was as chill on the Street of Temples as it had been at the White Foal’s edge.

He straightened up from the piled stones in the alleyway, hand to the small of his back. He was alone now. He’d sent his boys scurrying with a flurry of invective when he’d realized what they’d done.

Or what he’d let them do. They’d touched the stones, because of Kama and Strat. Worse, they’d mismarked the ones they’d touched.

Zip had spent the rest of the night trying to sort out the mess. And all he had to show for his labors was an empty pile of stones that wouldn’t sit exactly right, wouldn’t form the beehive shape they’d had down at the riverbank.

One more time, he put the stones he was sure of-the top three-in place. And one more time they fell inward, toppled others, and ended in a jumble in the alley beside the Storm God of Ranke’s temple.

And again, as the stones rolled and at last came to rest, the ground beneath Zip’s feet seemed to tremble. This time, he hardly noticed the earth’s tremors over his own.

The rivergod wasn’t pleased, he could feel it. Maybe it was gone, or just wouldn’t come here because he’d botched it, but Zip had an awful feeling that the red-eyed thing was more than a little miffed about the disarrayed condition of its home. Worse, he wasn’t sure any more whether this site was good enough, being not quite on the Street of Tem- ples, but somewhat off the thoroughfare.