why sorcerers allow men gods.
Equally reticent was Tempus when Ka-dakithis, wringing his lacquer-nailed hands,
told him of the First Hazard’s unique demise, and wondered with dismal sarcasm
if the adepts would again try to blame the fall of one of their number on
Tempus’ alleged sister (here he glanced sidelong up at Tempus from under his
pale Imperial curls), the escaped mage-killer who, he was beginning to think,
was a figment of sorcerers’ nightmares: When they had had this “person” in the
pits, awaiting trial and sentence, no two witnesses could agree on the
description of the woman they saw; when she had escaped, no one saw her go. It
might be that the adepts were purging their Order again, and didn’t want anyone
to know, didn’t Tempus agree? In the face of Kadakithis’ carefully thought-out
policy statement, meant to protect the prince from involvement and the soldier
from implication, Tempus refrained from comment.
The First Hazard’s death was a welcome surprise to Tempus, who indulged in an
active, if surreptitious, bloodfeud with the Mageguild. Sortilege of any nature
he could not abide. He had explored and discarded it all: philosophy, systems of
personal discipline such as Niko employed, magic, religion, the sort of eternal
side-taking purveyed by the warrior-mages who wore the Blue Star. The man who in
his youth had proclaimed that those things which could be touched and perceived
were those which he preferred had not been changed by time, only hardened.
Adepts and sorcery disgusted him. He had faced wizards of true power in his