“Hers,” Tempus said and hid his face behind his hands. After a moment he raised
his eyes. “And nobody notices. Roxane’s fiend is ladling the Unicorn’s swill and
no one bloody notices'”
“A living fiend, my friend. You’ve been away too long. In this part of town
being alive, in your own life, is all that really matters.”
Tempus sighed. He drained the crudely made mug and motioned for another round.
Now that he had adjusted to the smoky light, Molin could see that the Riddler’s
eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them was bruised from exhaustion.
“I should kill you for that, too,” Tempus said, rubbing his eyes, making them
redder. “A bad habit, you said. There’s a magician-The Dream Lord, Askelon; my
brother-in-law- he overstepped himself at the Festival of Man, as you may have
heard. Been exiled to Meridian by greater powers than his own. Usually I don’t
have to worry about him but now, thanks to you, he’s always right there at the
comer of my mind, waiting to get into my dreams.”
“He gets into everyone else’s dreams and they’re none the worse for it,
Riddler.”
“Not into my dreams, damn you!” He took the second mug from the fiend without a
flinch, downing it as he had the first.
“More beer? Good beer for the gentleman?” the fiend inquired. “Snapper Jo gets
good beer for the gentleman. Snapper Jo remembers this gentleman, this soldier.
Mistress made sure Snapper always remember… Tempus.”
Tempus’s hands were on Snapper Jo’s throat; Molin’s were on a long, wickedly
efficient knife but the fiend only smiled. He knotted the muscles in his warty