and picked her way, between a dusty carved table and a tall vase of dull brass
inlaid with tarnished silver, toward the door. The vase toppled as Snapper Jo
leaped with awkward efficiency to block her.
“Fat lady not to go-” the gray fiend said reproachfully. “Orders-Mistress says
to keep you here.” He favored her with a walleyed leer. “And talk to Snapper
Jo!”
Gilla talked to him. She could not tell if it was for hours, really, or only
seemed that way. The fiend’s conversation was remarkably repetitive, and only
long practice in answering the questions of small children while doing something
else got her through it still sane. But the light behind the curtains was
definitely fading when something moved in the doorway and Snapper Jo’s patter
abruptly failed.
The room seemed to brighten, or perhaps it was only that this woman left a
glamor in the air around her. Local legend had said that Roxane was terrible,
but had no words to say how beautiful she was. And surely it was Roxane, for
everyone knew that the witch Ischade was pale as a night-born flower, but
Roxane’s skin bloomed like a rose.
“So, you are enjoying your conversation?” Roxane’s little cat smile did not
reach her eyes.
You bitch, how dare you … thought Gilla. Then she met that gaze, and felt her
skin grow cold. She bit back the retort that ached in her throat.
“My Carrier was not prepared for such as you.” Roxane looked Gilla up and down.
“Count yourself fortunate that your weight did not burst it and leave you
floating mindless between the planes!” The Nisibisi sorceress laughed, and