my sister’s debts.”
Then, finally, she came at him: “You mistake me. I am not asking you, I am
telling you.” She reached him, crouched down, thighs together, hands on her
knees, knees on what had once been Jubal the Slaver’s bed. “This is a real debt,
in lieu of payment for which, my patron and the elementals will exact-“
He clipped her exactly behind her right ear, and she fell across him, senseless.
Other things she had said, earlier in passion, rang in his head: that should he
in any way displease her, her duty would then be plain: he and Vashanka could
both be disciplined by way of the child they had together begotten on one of
Molin Torchholder’s temple dancers.
He was not sure how he felt about that, as he was not sure how he felt about
Askelon’s offer of mortality or Vashanka’s cowardice, or the positives and
negatives of his sister’s self-engendered fate.
He gave the unconscious woman over to his Stepsons with instructions that made
the three he had hailed grin widely. He could not estimate how long they would
be able to hold her- however long they managed it, it had better be long enough.
The Stepson who had come from seeking Niko in Sanctuary found him, garbed for
business, saddling a Tros horse in the stables.
“Stealth said,” the gruff, sloe-eyed commando reported: ” ‘She said stay out of
it, no need to fear.’ He’s staying with the archmage, or whatever it is. He’s
going to the Mageguild party and suggests you try and drop by.” A feral grin
stole over the mercenary’s face. He knew something was up. “Need anybody on your