discovered not malice, not anger, but insouciance, even humour on the part of
the perpetrator, this witch, this northron demigoddess, be she what she was. The
affront lay there a good long while, gnawing at the laissez-faire on which her
peace was founded – for, without that habit of laziness, she hungered more
often; and that hunger led to tragedies.
Such a thing had happened because she was lazy, because there were costs of
power she had never wished to pay. This witch slaughtered children, plucking
them from her hands; and dropped the matter at her door. This witch went her
way, indifferent, having fouled her nest, her eyes set on further ambitions, in
professional disregard. This was worth, after thought, a certain anger; and
anger eroded itself a place and grew. She ought, Ischade thought, to thank the
Nisi witch for this discovery, that there were other appetites, and one great
one which could assuage that moon-driven hunger that had held her, so, so long.
She understood – oh, very much of what passed in the streets, having been on the
bridge, having been everywhere in Sanctuary, black-robed, wrapped in more than
robes when she chose to be. The world tottered. The sea-folk intruded, assuming
power; Wizardwall and Stepsons fought, with ambitions all their own; Jubal
planned
– whatever Jubal planned; young hotheads dealt in swords on either side; death
squads invaded uptown; while across the White Foal the beggar-king Moruth made
his own bid. All the while the prince sat in his palace and intrigued with