child’s face turned up to him. No eager hands outflung to their redeemer; a
small, spent hero shuffled across soiled straw to meet him, slave’s eyes gauging
without fear just what he might expect from this man, who had once been among
his father’s most valued, but was now only one more Rankan enemy. Tempus
remembered picking the child up in his arms, hating how little he weighed, how
sharp his bones were; and that moment when Abarsis at last believed he was safe.
About a boy’s tears, Abarsis had sworn Tempus to secrecy. About the rest, the
less said, the better. He had found him foster parents, in the rocky west by the
sea temples where Tempus himself was born, and where the gods still made
miracles upon occasion. He had hoped somehow the gods would heal what love could
not. Now, they had done it.
He nodded, having passed recollection like poison, watching the fire burn down.
Then, for the sake of the soul of Stepson, called Abarsis, and under the aegis
of his flesh, Tempus humbled himself before Vashanka and came again into the
service of his god.
10
Hanse, hidden below on a shelf, listening and partaking of the funeral of his
own fashion, upon realizing what he was overhearing, spurred the horse out of
there as if the very god whose thunderous voice he had heard were after him.
He did not stop until he reached the Vulgar Unicorn. There he shot off the horse
in a dismount which was a fall disguised as a vault, slapped the beast smartly
away, telling it hissingly to go home, and slipped inside with such relief as