taken by Askelon, the very lord of dreams. All at the Mageguild’s fete where the
god was vanquished saw it. You need not take my word – witnesses are legion.’
She fixed him with her pale stare. Ilsigs were called Wrigglies, and Lastel’s
craven self was a good example why. She felt disgust and stared longer.
The man before her dropped his eyes, mumbling that their agreement had not
hinged on the mage-killer Cime, that he was doing more than his share as it was,
for little enough profit, that the risks were too high.
And to prove to her he was still her creature, he warned her again of the
Stepsons: ‘That pair of Whoresons Tempus sicced on you should concern us, not
money – which neither of us will be alive to spend if -‘ One of the slaves cried
out, whether in pleasure or pain Roxane could not be certain; Lastel did not
even look up, but continued:’… Tempus finds out we’ve thirty stone of krrf in
-‘
She interrupted him, not letting him name the hiding place. ‘Then do this that I
ask of you, without question. We will be rid of the problem they cause,
thereafter, and have our own sources, who’ll tell us what Tempus does and does
not know.’
A slave serving mulled wine approached, and both took electrum goblets. For
Roxane, the liquor was an advantage: looking into its depths, she could see what
few cogent thoughts ran through the fat drug dealer’s mind.
He thought of her, and she saw her own beauty: wizard hair like ebony and wavy;
her sanguine skin like velvet: he dreamed her naked, with his dogs. She cast a