with Strat cursing him to his face and telling him he was wrong. He was
accustomed to regard Strat when he said wrong and stop, and hold it, Crit, Crit,
stop it-. Straton the level-headed. Straton who seemed at one moment coldly
rational and in the next rode off on-whatever that bay horse had become. “Where
did you leave him?”
“Mageguild post. He left me. He rode off. I-lost track of him. He wasn’t at
Ischade’s. I thought he’d come to you. Niko said not, Niko said-find you.”
Tempus exhaled a long breath, took the sword he was carrying and hung it where
it belonged. Thunder rattled. The inn echoed with it as Jihan came on down the
steps. “Barracks, maybe,” Jihan said. “I don’t think so,” Crit said. “Where do
you think he’s gone?” Tempus asked. “To do something,” Crit said, and out of
that fund of knowledge a pairbond held: “To prove something.”
Tempus took that in with a grave and quiet look. “To whom?”
“To me. To you. He’s being a fool. I’m asking you-“
“You want an order from me? Or you want me to find him?”
Of a sudden Crit did not know what he wanted. One seemed too little; the other,
fatal.
“I’ll find him,” Crit said. “I thought you’d better know.”
“I know,” Tempus said. “He’s still in command of the city. Tell him he’ll be at
Peres on time. And he won’t have done anything stupid; tell him that too.”
A horse snorted softly, hooves shifted on cobbles; and Straton heard the sound
of their steps between narrow walls, knew before the hands left his arms that
they had come back to the alley and the little stable-nook where he had left the