Ischade held quite still for a moment, then began to laugh, and laughed long and
loud. A terrible sound it was. “These are hard times,” she said, “when even gods
are so suspicious.”
“Treachery is everywhere,” said Mriga, wondering swiftly how the thought had
escaped her before.
“Oh indeed,” Ischade said, and laughed again, softly, until she lost her breath.
“Very well. But what coin do you plan to use to pay the ones below? Even I only
borrow souls, then send them back; and believe me, there’s a price. To get your
barber back in the flesh and living, the payment to those below will have to be
considerable. And there’s the problem of where you’ll put him-“
“That will be handled,” Mriga said, “by the time the deed’s done. Meanwhile we
shouldn’t waste time, madam. Even in hell time flows, and souls forget how to
stay in bodies.”
Ischade looked lazily at Mriga, and once again there was interest behind the
look, and calculation. “You haven’t yet told me what you’ll do with your barber
once you’ve got him,” she said. “Besides the predictable divine swiving.”
“You haven’t yet told us what payment you’ll require,” said Mriga. “But I’ll say
this. Last time you met my lord, you told him that if he brought Siveni back
among the living, you’d find the proceedings merry to watch. And did you not?”
Ischade smiled, small and secret. “I watched them take away the temple doors
that she smashed down into the street,” she said softly, “and I saw the look on
Molin Torchholder’s face while they carted them off. He was most distressed at