Kama.
Buoyed by the heat, Walegrin’s mind drifted back in time and a few hundred yards deeper into the Maze; back to Tick’s Cross and another night almost as hot as this one when he’d taken the midnight patrol. The night he’d agreed to let Zip live-at least until Tempus had ridden beyond Sanctuary’s new gates.
He’d heard the horse first, moving too fast through the rutted muck that passed for paving stones hereabout, and made his way to the cross in time to see its rider go ass over elbow to the ground. The horse was well-trained and came to a shame-faced stop not five paces from its motionless rider. Walegrin grabbed the loose reins and led it back to the moonlit intersection.
Kama lay on her back, knees splayed and angled up-a posture more becoming a whore than a 3rd Commando assassin. Walegrin had looked only long enough to be sure it was her before turning discreetly, uncomfortably, away.
“It would be you. That’s twice-damnit all,” the husky voice had said, reminding him of the time his men had hauled her out of a malodorous cistern. “I’ve killed better men for less.”
He had stared at her, knowing the absolute certainty of her claim and yet, for one wild, reckless moment able to see the absolute absurdity of her position.
“Better for less?” he’d repeated in a bantering tone he used infrequently, even with his own men. “Better for less? Kama, either I’m the best or you’ll have to kill me right now”-and immediately wished that someone had taken the trouble to cut his tongue out long ago.