flushed cheeks burned with a glow to lighten the hopeless heart. Remembering
favours granted in times past, Lalo solemnly saluted him.
And the god saw, and looked at him, and meeting those deep eyes Lalo recognized
a mute sorrow and remembered that this was the god who yearly dies and is
reborn. Then Anen smiled, and as joy fountained in Lalo’s heart, he saw that his
goblet was filling with wine like the blood of a star.
The wine gave him courage to look at the others – gentle Theba the peace
bringer, and swift-footed Shalpa like a shadow beside her, whose face, when Lalo
glimpsed it, reminded him strangely of someone he had seen often in the Vulgar
Unicorn, though he could not for the moment think whom. But he saw the face of
every mercenary he had ever known in the harsh features of Him-whom-we-do-not
name, armed and weaponed even here, and the sharp good humour of the women who
haggled over fabric in the dyers’ stalls in the face of bright-haired Thilli,
until he began to realize that he recognized all of them – that he had painted
all of them, that he had lived among them all in Sanctuary and never known.
‘Father, you have disposed ofVashanka, at least for the present, but the priests
of Savankala still hold a place of honour in Sanctuary!’ Eshi was speaking to
the blaze of light at the head of the table, whom Lalo had still not quite dared
to look upon.
‘Until a new body for Vashanka to use matures, his power is broken,’ the voice
shimmered in Lalo’s ears. ‘The Rankan gods do not trouble Me now. It is this new