the sudden activity of Ilsig gods. So he began to pull what strings he could to
deal with that problem … and one of the strings he pulled was attached to
Tempus and his Stepsons, and the Third Commando.”
“And to you,” Mriga said. “So that the barracks burned, and then the city
burned, and Harran and a thousand others died. All so that the town will keep on
being too divided against itself to care that you go about in it, manipulating
the living and doing your pleasure on the dead … to alleviate your boredom.”
“The gods are wise,” Ischade said, quietly.
“Sometimes not very. But I don’t care. My business is to see what I love brought
somewhere safe. After that- this town needs its own gods. Not Rankan, or Beysib,
or even Ilsigi. I’m one of the new ones. There are others, as you know. Once the
‘divine swiving’ is out of the way. I intend to see those new young gods
settled, for this place’s good, and its people’s good. That may take mortal
years, but while it’s going on, there’ll be ‘merry times’ enough for even you
without you having to engineer them. There’ll be war in heaven … which is
always mirrored on earth.”
“Or the other way around,” Ischade said.
“Either way, you’ll find it very interesting. Which is what you desire. Isn’t
it?”
Ischade looked at Mriga. “Very well. This business is apparently in my
interests. We’ll discuss payment after-ward; it will be high. And I shall go
with you … to watch the ‘merry times’ begin.” She smiled. Mriga smiled too.
Ischade’s velvet, matter-of-fact malice was wide awake, hoping disaster would