“Yes, I do, Randal.” Tempus dropped the Tros’s reins and it stood, groundtied, while the big fighter approached the small, slight wizard, put an arm across his narrow shoulders, and walked with him toward the First Hazard’s purple alcove.
“I need your help. I need your presence. I need your whole attention-now, and always.”
Randal felt pride course through him, felt himself grow inches taller, felt his neck flush with joy. “You have it, Riddler, now and always-you know that. I took the Sacred Band oath. I have not forgotten.”
Niko had, seemingly, but not even that cloud could block out the light of
Tempus’s favor-not, at any rate, completely, Randal told himself.
“Nor have we. The Band sets out for Ranke soon, there to meet with Niko and trek east. We want you on that journey, Randal-as a Sacred Bander, purely.”
“Purely? I don’t understand. It was Niko who broke the pairbond, not-“
“This is not about Niko. It’s about Jihan.”
“Oh. Oh.” Randal slipped out from under the Riddler’s arm, its weight suddenly unbearable. “That. She… well, it wasn’t my idea, the marriage. You must know that. I’m not even-good-with women. And she’s… demanding.” The words came out in a rush, now that there was finally someone to tell who would understand the problem. “I’ve put her off so far, explaining that I can’t… you know… until we’re wed. But I’ll lose so much… power, and there’s precious little of that around, these days. She says she’ll make up for it, through her father, but I’m not god-bound, I’m bound in-“