neck and belched his way to freedom.
“Just where is your Mistress?” Tempus demanded, rubbing his knuckles.
The creature shrugged and crossed its eyes. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “Snapper
went looking for her. Nice dark lady asked Snapper to look for the Mistress.”
“Did Snapper Jo find his Mistress?” Molin asked.
“No, not find. Look everywhere-look in hell itself. Not find. No Mistress!
Snapper Jo free!”
The notion overwhelmed Snapper Jo. He hugged himself, trembling with joy, and
went back to the bar without another thought for the two men watching him.
“If we believe him, then she’s not dead,” Tempus admitted. “If I’d believe a
fiend,” he corrected himself. “Torch, I talked to Niko about all of this. He
says he’s free of her-free like he hasn’t been in years. I believe Niko, Torch.
There’s nothing left of Roxane except memories-and bad habits.”
It was Molin’s turn to bury his head in his hands. “Niko and the fiend: both
free of Roxane. Thank you, Riddler-I’ll believe the fiend. He says he looked in
hell and didn’t find her; Ischade sent him to hell looking for Roxane and he
didn’t find her there. Now, Niko, I’ll wager he not only told you that he was
free of Roxane but that all our precautions were unnecessary. I’ll wager he told
you that he could take care of the Stormchildren all by himself.”
“All right. Torch. We’ll tell Niko we’re moving the globe and the kids-and then
we’ll watch him. We’ll even send a little procession out past the walls to one
of the estates. But by Enlil, Vashanka, Stormbringer, and every other soldier’s