your barracksmates damn well left you on that bridge. They left you to die slow.
/ know about dying slow, Stilcho; believe me that I know. And you’re right about
the Nisibisi outflanking us-everlasting right. But what else could we do? Lose
it up north? The Band did what they could. Men coming back from that-maybe
maybe they had to save what of their honor they could here in Sanctuary. And you
know what your barracks-mates were into, you know what the Band found when they
walked in-It was only the dregs survived. Some on the take from the Wrigglies;
some, dammit, from the Nisibisi themselves; the rest who dodged every duty they
could-you know ’em, doing their patrols in the wineshops and the whorehouses
while you stood out on that bridge while the damn rabble cut you to-“
“Let it go,” Stilcho hissed; and in the little house beyond Janni’s
insubstantial body-gods, the lights dimmed, Stilcho imagined the harsh
breathing, bodies twined, knew another of them was in the toils and
irretrievable; and was in a hell of jealousy. “We left all of that. You’ve left
it further than I have. You ought to learn that-“
“-it’s in my interest,” Ischade whispered against Straton’s ear. “Whatever else
you trust in this world, believe in self-interest; and my self-interest is this
city; and against my self-interest is Roxane of Nisibis. Hostilities were her
choice-far from mine. I never like noise. I never like attention-“
“Don’t you.”
She laughed without mirth, ignored his moving hands, took his face between hers
and stared until his eyes grew quiet and deep and hazy. “Listen to me, Strat.”