Squat! Sturdy! A rough beehive of stones, solid as the temple wall in whose shadow it rested. Success! Relief flooded Zip. Before he knew it, he was on his knees at the low opening, peering inward, trying to see if the rivergod was there.
And he saw something, red and glowing, restless in its appointed dark. And reached out to touch the stones, which were cool and real and snug in place.
He pushed on one. It didn’t shift. He pushed on two. They didn’t budge. He chuckled and then he grinned. He put his cheek to the cool stone, knowing now that the spark that had seemed to bite him was just some phosphorescent insect and the rest had been illusion, a moment of Waking dream.
Because the god was not angry at him-it had come to abide in the temple he had built it!
He gave a wordless shout and then remembered the armored man. He got up from the altar, hand already outstretched to thank the stranger, but there was no one there. No man in fighter’s garb. No horse in pantherskin shabraque with panther feet dangling from its back.
Nothing but increasing daylight in an alley where no Ilsig dared be caught, not even Zip, the third shift watch officer of Sanctuary.
“Gotta go, but I’ll be back. Lord,” he muttered, giving the shrine a final pat before he fled. “I’ll be back.”
Kama’s roan had bolted during the night, found some way to slip its harness and make away. “She does it all the time,” Kama said to Crit, who was sure someone had gotten into the barn and stolen the mare. “There’s no door that beast can’t open, no knot she can’t chew through. She’ll be out at the Stepsons’ barracks, mark my words.”