and make the wagon and send the snakes to retrieve the bait – the girls alone,
the boys were expendable – and snakes were not up to fooling women grown and
knowledgeable of spells. Ischade had given up her female prizes, rather than
confront Nisibisi magic, pretending for her own sake that she believed the
‘Stepsons’ who came to claim Tamzen and her friends.
Had Roxane not been leaving town this evening, she’d have had to wipe the
vampire’s soul – or at least her memory – away.
So she took the snakes out once more from their baskets and held their heads up
to her face. Tongues darted out and reptilian eyes pled mercy, but Roxane had
forgotten mercy long ago. And strength was what she needed, which in part these
had helped to drain away. Holding them high she picked herself up and, speaking
words of power, took them both and cast them in the blazing hearth. The flames
roared up and snakes writhed in agony and roasted. When they were done she
fetched them out with silver tongs and ate their tails and heads.
Thus fortified, she turned to Niko, still hiding mind and soul in his precious
mental refuge, a version of it she’d altered when her magic saw it. This place
of peace and perfect relaxation, a cave behind the meadow of his mind, had a
ghost in it, a friend who loved him. In its guise she’d spoken long to him and
gained his spirit’s trust. He was hers, now, as her lover-lord had promised; all
things he learned she’d know as soon as he. None of it he’d remember, just go
about his business of war and death. Through him she’d herd Tempus whither she