Here Rankan Mageguild functionaries in robes that made them look like badly-set
tables hobnobbed with caravanners and Palace hierophants all intent on the same
end: safety for their business transactions from the interference of warring
factions; safety for their persons and their kin from undeads and less numinous
terrorists; safety-it was the most sought after commodity in Sanctuary these
days.
Safety, so far as Niko was concerned whenever he came out of Bandara into the
World, was beside the point. In his cabin on its cliff he could be safe, but
then his gifts of maat and his deep perceptions were turned inward, useful only
to the student, not, as they were meant, carried by him abroad in the World to
turn a fate or two or stem a tide gone too far in any one direction.
Maat forced its bearer out, among its opposite, Chaos, to set whatever
imbalances he could to rights. It always hurt, it always cost, and he always
longed for Bandara when his strength was spent. But, when he was home, he always
grew restless, strong and able, and so he’d come out again, even into Sanctuary,
where Balance was just an abstract, where everything was always wrong, and where
nothing any man-or even demigod like Niko’s commander Tempus-could do would
bring even an intimation of lasting peace. But peace, Niko’s teacher had said,
was death. He would have it by and by.
The witch, Roxane, was death also. He hoped she couldn’t sense him as clearly as
he could her. Though he’d been at pains to keep his visit here a secret from