dead god’s high priest had been revealed to be a Nisibisi warlock-and those were
only Randal’s magic-tainted concerns. The mage had, however, one concern that
stood above all the rest; which made him secure against momentary lust and drew
him, and her, back to the grove where a circle of stones glowed a faint blue.
Nikodemos, the impossible Stepson whom Randal worshiped with a chaste, fervent
love, was trapped at the focus of every dangerous incongruity prowling Sanctuary
and anything that might help Niko was worth every risk Randal might have to
take.
She had caught him when they reached the grove. They were rolling across the
grass when they pierced the sphere and hurtled through nothingness back to the
palace alcove where the body of Randal slumped over an embossed Nisibisi Globe
of Power. The transfer back into himself was all the more uncomfortable for the
mongoose teeth digging into his neck and the pottery crags of the Wizardwall
mountains pressing against his breastbone. Randal slipped from the world back
into nothingness and sheer panic. He had almost regained himself when a weighted
net slapped over him.
“The cage, Molin. Damn you, the cage before she eats through my damned neck!”
“Coming up.” The erstwhile high priest of Vashanka brandished a wicker-and-wire
cage while magician and mongoose thrashed on the table.
Having the cage was not the same as having the unrequited mongoose in the cage.
Both men were bloodied and torn before the bolt was thrown.
“You were supposed to have the cage ready.”