of the sun.
In a methodical fashion he reviewed the conversations and rumors that had passed
his way. The garrison commander, Walegrin, was finally showing promise; acting
on his own initiative, he had established friendly relations with Straton and
Tempus Thales’s daughter, Kama. That was a good sign. Of course, the fact that
Straton was on the streets, cut off from both Ischade and the Stepsons and
dealing with Jubal, was a bad sign. And confirmation that Kama was the
intelligence behind the PFLS was the worst information he’d had in months- even
if it wasn’t a surprise. Tempus, never an easy man to predict under the best of
circumstances, would be chaos incarnate if any of his real or imagined family
turned on one another.
The whining hawkmask the garrison had interrogated had told them everything he
knew, and a good deal he did not, about Ischade. Like Straton, the priest found
it interesting that Ischade had rivals within her own household-rivals who could
transform an Ilsig harridan into a Rankan lady. Molin knew the necromancer had
been detaching herself from her magic since her raven had appeared on his
bedpost with no message and less desire to return to the White Foal. If Ischade
found her focus again, the bird would let him know by its departure. If she
didn’t, well: Jihan could protect the children, Randal would protect his globe,
and the rest of magic could destroy itself for all he cared.
On the balance, then, the thoughts percolating through his mind were satisfying.
The street powers-the Stepsons, Jubal, the 3rd Commando, and the garrison-were