right one. Seismic disruptions disturbed his brain and his stomach felt both
hollow and drawn together.
Because they needed him, they told him without equivocation, for what was pride
to gods?
The Ilsigi his people, and Sanctuary called Thieves’ World needed him, and the
world needed him. It was not just that Ils and his family would wane and shrink
and perish. Ranke would rule supreme over all the world, and Ranke was ruled by
men other than good (“for my cousin Savankala is old and weary of the strife of
his offspring”) and Savankala’s warlike, war-loving son ruled Ranke, through its
emperor. .
“I may not do battle with Vashanka, though,” Ils said, light speaking in the
voice of warmth, “for son must battle son.”
And with that stated He vanished, and much light left with him. Now the big
chamber was draped with shadows, and the Shadow at table’s end spoke, in the
rustly voice of shadows, hooded and cloaked.
“You think you know me, Hanse, and you are right. I am He to Whom There is no
Temple. I am the Shadowed One, Hanse who are Son of the Shadow. It is I who must
combat Vashanka, for I am son of Ils as he is son of Savankala my uncle. But the
presence here of Ranke, and of Vashanka and his so-powerful servant-these have
robbed me of abilities. I can act only through you, Hanse, as my sister may act
only through Mignureal. With the sword from him called Stepson, Hanse, who is
Godson, is to combat a god.”
“Vash- Vashanka?”
Hanse saw the shadowy nod that was his only reply, and again he blurted words: