arms.
“Is this true?” the Beysa demanded.
“It is likely,” Jihan admitted, trying to divide her ministrations between the
‘stricken mage and Niko, who moaned when her hands weren’t resting against his
flesh. “We can defend the rest-place, or the Stormchildren, but if Roxane has
the globe she’ll always be one step ahead.”
“Roxane, Niko, or your son, Riddler,” Ischade interrupted, focusing her own, and
everyone else’s, attention on Tempus. “You must make your choice. No matter what
I do, I will need time. I cannot wait any longer!”
But Tempus only shook his head. He took Niko’s hand and the unconscious Stepson
seemed to breathe easier. “Go where you want,” he said slowly.
Ischade set the goblet down and made ready to leave the room.
“Guards!” Shupansea shouted, and a pair of the shaven-pated Burek warriors
appeared in the doorway. “Provide her with shoes and clothing. Escort her
wherever she wishes to go-“
The necromant stared across the room, hell-dark eyes flashing rejection of
Beysib hospitality.
“You ought not squander yourself by leaving the same way you arrived,” the Beysa
said gently, a faint smile on her lips; her eyes still defended against the
power of that stare.
Ischade lowered her eyes and picked her way carefully across the shattered
glass. The great black raven, which had arrived moments after the first Globe of
Power had been shattered and had held itself aloof from all the commotion since,
spread its wings and flapped out the window its mistress had broken by her
entrance.
“How did Roxane get in there?” Tempus asked once Ischade was gone. “How? Not