certainly there. She could lead us to him….”
Mriga looked at the raven in swift admiration. “That lost wisdom’s coming back
to you, sister. So she might. Of course, we would have to find a way to get into
hell ourselves.”
“Then think of one,” Siveni said, sounding both pleased and annoyed.
Mriga thought. Her omniscience stirred, though not precisely in the direction
required. “I don’t know how just yet,” she said. “But there are experts in this
town … people who know the way. They’ve sent so many others down that road.
And they bring them back again.”
Tyr looked up and yipped. She had been bolting the meat and already looked
somewhat better-not just from having eaten after a long fast. The food and drink
of the gods work strangely in mortals. Tyr’s eyes were already brighter and
deeper than Mriga ever remembered having seen them; and the dog had abruptly
stopped smelling like a garbage-heap.
“Yes,” Mriga said. “It might just work. Finish that, little one. Then we’ll go
down by the White Foal … and go to hell.”
Tyr yipped again and went at the ribs with dispatch. The raven looked sidewise
at Mriga. “What if she won’t help us?” she said.
Omniscience spoke up again, and Mriga frowned, for it was no comfort. “She
will,” she said. “Always assuming that between here and there, we can figure out
the right things to say….”
Even necromants need to sleep occasionally, and in the last few days Ischade had
gotten less sleep than usual. Now, in this bright chill winter afternoon she had
evidently counted Sanctuary deep enough in shock at its troubles that she might