grey eyes, golden hair piled on high, curve of lips whence came that husky
voice. (How often he had lain awake yearning for her lips! He would console
himself by remembering the strong, delicately blue-veined hand that she did let
him kiss.) Despite waxing warmth and dust puffed up from the horses’ hoofs, her
cowled riding habit remained immaculate and no least dew of sweat was on her
skin.
By the time Cappen got his wits out of the blankets wherein they had still been
snoring, talk had turned to gods. Danlis was curious about those of Jamie’s
country, as she was about most things. (She did shun a few subjects as being
unwholesome.) Jamie in his turn was eager to have her explain what was going on
in Sanctuary. ‘I’ve heard but the one side of the matter, and Cappen’s
indifferent to it,’ he said. ‘Folk grumble about your master – Molin, is that
his name -?’
‘He is not my master,’ Danlis made clear. ‘I am a free woman who assists his
wife. He himself is a high priest in Ranke, also an engineer.’
‘Why is the Emperor angering Sanctuary? Most places I’ve been, colonial
governments know better. They leave the local gods be.’
Danlis grew pensive. ‘Where shall I start? Doubtless you know that Sanctuary was
originally a city of the kingdom of Ilsig. Hence it has built temples to the
gods of Ilsig – notably Ils, Lord of Lords, and his queen Shipri the All-Mother,
but likewise others – Anen of the Harvests, Thufir the tutelary of pilgrims -‘
‘But none to Shalpa, patron of thieves,’ Cappen put in, ‘though these days he