not to mention pleased, that you display some disposition to compromise. It is
for everyone’s benefit. This is Jihan.” He inclined his head toward his
companion. “Greet our host.” .
“It is my pleasure to wish that things go exceedingly well with you,” the woman
said, and Niko saw Tempus shiver, a subtle thing that went over him from scalp
to sandals-and almost bolted out to help, thinking some additional, debilitating
spell was being cast. He was not fooled by those polite exchanges: bodies and
timbres had been speaking more plainly of respectful opposition and cautious
hostility. Distressed and overbalanced from long crouching without daring to
lean or sit, he fell forward, catching himself too late to avoid making noise.
Niko heard Tempus remonstrate, “Let him be, Askelon!” and felt a sudden ennui,
his eyelids closing, a drift toward sleep he fought-then heard the dream lord
reply: “I will take this one as my hostage, and leave Jihan with you, a fair
trade. Then I will release these others, who remember nothing-for the interim.
When I am done here, if you have behaved well, you may have them back
permanently, free and unencumbered. We will see how good your faith can be said
to be.”
Niko realized he could still hear, still see, still move.
“Come here, Nikodemos,” Tempus summoned him.
He obeyed. His commander’s mien implored Niko to take all this in his stride, as
his voice sent him to see to breakfast for three. He was about to object that
only by the accident of meditation had he been untouched by the spell-which