worse and soothed his conscience, ought’to be here.”
“And… that?” Ischade meant what was behind her. All her hackles risen, she
found her mouth dry and eyes aching-if she had a mouth here, or eyes. It seemed
she did.
“We’ll put them back where they belong-not here. They’re yours to deal with, in
the World.”
He must have seen her frown, for he leaned forward on one straight and scarless
arm that might never have been shattered when a demon raged inside him: “Roxane
is … special. Different. Less. I’m free of all but my own feelings. For that I
don’t apologize. Like you, I deal in more than one reality. But 1 ask you for
mercy on her behalf…”
“Mercy!” Incredulous, Ischade nearly burst out laughing. The thing that was part
Haught, part Tasfalen (who was dead and had housed Roxane once and now again, if
Ischade understood the rules by which Niko’s magic games were played), was
shuffling close behind now, intent on biting off her head or munching on her
soul. It had been one with a demon; it had merged with devils; it had taken fire
out of the hands of arch-mages such as Randal and used it even against her. All
of this, Ischade was sure, was Roxane’s twisted evil come to ground. And Niko
wanted mercy for the witch that had made his life a living hell and wouldn’t
offer him so much mercy as clean death would bring.
“That’s right-mercy. I’m not like you, but we’ve helped each other. Tolerance,
balance-good and evil: each resides within the other, part and parcel.”
Ischade, who’d seen too much evil, shook her head. “You must be dead, or still