not an ordinary snake?”
“That’s what I mean. Not a Beysib snake, anyway. Look here.” He turned the snake
and Niko could see tiny hands and feet, as if the snake had been starting to
turn into a man when Niko’s stroke had killed it.
And the ichor, now, was steaming, eating like acid into the. stone of the palace
floor.
“Why did you kill it?” said the Riddler gently. “What made you think it would
attack you? Did it threaten? Did it rear up? What?”
“Because…” Niko sighed and tossed back ashen hair grown long enough to flop
into his eyes. He’d shaved his beard and looked too young for what he was and
what he’d been through; his scars were pale and the haunted look he bore made
Tempus glance away. These two were each other’s misery: Niko loved the
Riddler and feared the consequences; Tempus saw in the youthful fighter
the curse of a man the gods desire.
“Because,” Niko said again, voice low and heavy with words he didn’t want to
say, “Alton told me to. Anon-the dark-haired-he’s the prescient one. He knows
the future. He protects the god-child. I’m glad you’re here. Commander. It’s
hard trying to-“
But Tempus got abruptly to his feet. “Don’t say that. You can’t know it, not for
sure.”
“I know it. My Bandaran… my maat knows what it sees. Maat-my balance, my
perception-shows me too much, Commander. We have things to talk over; decisions
must be made. These childlren must go to the western isles, else there’ll be
havoc. I don’t want the blame of it. Gyskouras, he’s yours … your son-or your
god’s. I prayed…. Did the gods inform you?”