eternal cool arrogance. Even here there’s no dominating her, Mriga thought,
annoyed, and admiring Ischade all over again.
“Madam Ischade,” said hell’s Queen. Her voice was soft and somber, a low voice
and a rich one. There was no believing it had ever laughed. “A long time it is
since you last came visiting. And you never before brought friends.”
“They are on business, madam,” Ischade said, her bearing toward the Queen as
frank and straightforward as to anyone else she perceived as peer. “Siveni Gray
Eyes, whom you may remember. And Mriga, a new goddess- perhaps the same as
Siveni: They’re working it out.” A secret smile here. “And Tyr.”
Tyr sat down, her tail thumping, and looked with interest at the Queen of hell.
She did not say “Welcome.” She said, “I know why you’ve come. I tried to stop
you, several times, through one or another of my servants. Whatever happens to
you now is on your own heads.”
She looked at them, and waited.
Mriga swallowed. Beside her Siveni said, “Madam, what price will you ask for
Harran’s soul?”
The Queen gazed gravely down at her. “The usual. The one my husband demanded of
the gods for my return, and the gods refused to pay. The soul of the one who
asks to buy.”
Mriga and Siveni looked at each other.
“The law is the law,” she said. “A soul for a soul, always. No god would trade
his life for my freedom. And it’s as well, for I did not want to leave.”
Ischade’s mouth curved ever so slightly.
“Why would I, after I went to such trouble to come here?” said the Queen. “I
gave up being spring’s goddess in favor of something more worthwhile. Shipri