Siveni with wry distaste, for she was after all a maiden goddess. Ischade put
her hood back and gazed at the goddesses with her beautiful oblique eyes full of
silent laughter as the frightened Stilcho tethered the ram and ewe by the altar.
Haught held out one of his silken bundles. Ischade put the wrappings aside and
drew forth a long curved knife of bronze, half sword and half sickle, with an
edge that even in the little, dim light from the torches of the Governor’s
Palace still glittered wickedly keen. The flat of the blade was stained dark.
“Blood sacrifice, then,” Siveni said.
“There’s always sacrifice where the ones below are concerned.” Ischade reached
absently down to caress the ram’s head. It held still in terror. “But first
other business. Stilcho, I will need your service tonight, and Razku-li’s. I go
on a journey.”
“Mistress-“
“To hell. You are going to lend me your death, and Razkuli will lend his to this
warrior-lady, and this poor creature-” she reached out to touch the wrapped
bundle on the shying donkey “-as soon as I fetch him back, will lend his to the
lady who limps. But you understand that while we’re using those parts of your
life-or death, rather-you will have to be elsewhere.”
Mriga bit her lip and turned away from the sight of a dead man going pale.
“Souls need containers … so I’ll provide some till dawn; we’ll be back then,
and you’ll find yourselves back to normal. Haught and Mor-am will stand guard
till then.” She stepped away from the altar, gliding past Haught and throwing