Stilcho’s scarred mouth trembled.
“Kill you,” Haught said. “That’s what you’re afraid of. But what’s one more trip
down there, for you? Is hell that bad?”
“Gods, let me alone-“
“Maybe it is. You ought to know. Tell the Mistress, dead man, and you lose your
chance with me.” Haught inhaled, one great lungful of Sanctuary’s dust-ridden
air. “There’s power to be had. I can see it, I breathe it-you like what I can
do, don’t deny it.”
“I-“
“Or do you want to run to Her, do you really want to run to Her tonight? She
told us to leave Her alone-But you’ve dealt with Her when the killing-mood is on
Her, you know what it’s like. You heard the fires tonight; have you ever heard
them bum like that? She’s taken Roxane, she’s drunk on that power, the gates of
hell reel under her-do you want that to take you by the hand tonight and do you
want that to take you to Her bed and do what She’s done before? You’ll run to
hell for refuge, man, you’ll go out like a candle and you’ll rot in hell
whatever there is left of you when She’s done.”
“No-“
“No, She wouldn’t, or No, you won’t go there, or Yes, you’re going to do exactly
what I asked you to do?”
“I’ll take your message.” Stilcho’s voice came hoarse and whispered. And in a
rush: “If you get caught it’s your doing, I won’t know anything, I’ll swear I
had no part in it!”
“Of course. So would I.” He tugged gently at Stilcho’s cloak. “I don’t ask
loyalty of you. I have ways to ensure it. Think about that, Stilcho. She’s going
to kill you. Again. And again. How long will your sanity take it, Stilcho? Shut