“I can’t tell you that. Why should I? They’re trained, gods know-well enough for this town, anyway. And they’re tough-as tough as any we trained ought to be, which most of them are. Niko himself spent some time working with the PFLS leader. And it shouldn’t matter to you who we leave in the barracks, as long as it’s not Jubal. We can’t have crime-lords running things-Theron was very explicit. It’ll take locals to police this place, or us.”
“That’s what I mean: None of us will want to stay to oversee that bunch of murderers-not me, not any of mine. Promise me you won’t do that to me again, leave me with an impossible job and an intractable lot of disappointed fighters.
The Band wants to go with you. I won’t be able to hold them here. And Sync’s commandos won’t take my orders.”
It wasn’t like Crit to make excuses, so these weren’t excuses: These were points the Sacred Bander urgently wanted Tempus to consider.
“Fine. I agree. I just want to make sure that you understand that Zip is more useful alive than dead… for one week. And that whatever is between you and my daughter-or not,” Tempus held up his hand to forestall Crit’s denial, “she’s entangled with Torchholder, who’s Nisi-an enemy. We leave her here. We take
Jihan and Randal if we have to drug them senseless to do it, and we get our tails out of here-yours, mine, Strat’s, the Stepsons’, the Third’s-and that’s that. We’re clear of a degenerating situation. If we can leave some force or other to help Kadakithis, then we’re lily-white.”