night’s receipts, and looked down. “If there’s ever anything I can do, sir
anything at all. I’m at the mercenaries’ guildhall, will be for a week or two.”
The old barkeep blew his nose on the leather of his chiton’s hem, then craned
his neck. “Do? Leave my other daughters be, is all.”
Niko held the barkeep’s feisty gaze until the man relented. “Sorry, son. We all
know none’s to blame for undeads but their makers. Luck go with you. Stepson.
What is it your brothers of the sword say? Ah, I’ve got it: Life to you, and
everlasting glory.” There was too much bitterness in the father’s voice for Niko
to have misunderstood what remained unsaid.
But he had to ask. “Sir, I need a favor-don’t call me th at here, or anywhere.
Tell no one I’m in town. I came to you only because … I had to. For Tamzen’s
sake.” That was the first time either man had used the name of the girl who’d
been daughter to the elder and lover to the younger, a girl now safe and
peacefully dead, who hadn’t been for far too long while Roxane had made use of
her, and other children she’d added to her crew of zombies, children taken from
among the finest homes of Sanctuary and now buried on the slopes of Wizardwall.
He got out of there as soon as the old man shielded his eyes with his hand and
muttered something like assent. He shouldn’t have come. It had done the
Alekeep’s owner harm, not good. But he’d had to do it, for himself. Because the
girl had been used by the witch against him, because he’d had to kill a child to
save a childish soul. He wondered whether he’d expected the old man to absolve