"My lord and emperor," Molin purred, and bowed, and Tempus stifled an urge to let Theron know that Sanctuary's architect/priest was a Nisi wizardling in disguise, a pretender and defiler, and a loudmouthed meddler to boot.
Theron, who didn't quite remember Molin but recognized the ornate robes of office, said sharply, "Priest, what's wrong with your acolytes that this place is accursed by weather, witch, and demon? If you can't restore order to your little backwater of the heavens, I'll replace you with someone who can. You've till New Year's day to set things right here-and no argument." Theron's leonine visage reddened: he'd found someone to blame for at least part of what was wrong here.
Only Tempus noticed the humor dancing in the shadows round the emperor's mouth as the Lion of Ranke bawled: "See Brachis, this is his mess as well, and tell him my decree: either Sanctuary is made pleasing in the sight of gods and their chosen representative-me-or you'll both be out looking for new jobs come year's end."
Molin Torchholder was too smart to wince or bridle. He stood stolidly, eyes fixed on Theron's hairy left ear until he was certain that the emperor was finished.
Then he responded, "Very good, my lord emperor. I'll see to it. But while I have your ear-and Tempus's-some news: Last night Prince/Governor Kadakithis pledged his troth to the Beysib queen, Shupansea... an alliance is ours now for the asking."
"Really?" Theron's manner mellowed; he rubbed his hands. "That's the sort of omen worth retelling."
Tempus found his dagger in his fingers; he cleaned dirt from its chased hilt absently, waiting for Molin's other shoe to drop.
And drop it did: "Moreover, if I have leave to continue, sire? Many thanks. Then: The esteemed Froth Daughter, spawn of Stonnbringer who is father of all the Weather Gods, will marry our own archmage, the Hazard Randal. This alliance, too, is fortuitous for-"
"What?" Tempus could scarcely believe his ears-or his good fortune. Stonnbringer, at least, kept His word.
Molin continued, not deigning to notice the Riddler's outburst: "-for us all. And to make a threesome of favorable omens, I myself propose to marry-with all suitable ceremony and with Tempus's permission, of course-the lady Kama of the Third Commando, daughter of the Riddler. Thus the armies and the priesthood will be wed as well, and internal strife ended..."
"You're going to what? You're mad. Crit says she tried to mur-" Tempus bit off words of accusation, thinking matters through as quickly as he fought in battle. Torchholder was canny; the move was one sure to bring him power, consolidate his position, put him beyond Tempus's retribution and above reproach. But it would also save Tempus's daughter from a lengthy inquisition: even Crit would admit that, since Strat was alive and would recover, Kama was more useful to them alive than dead, if she shared Torchholder's bed.
And Crit had sent word to him that there was some evidence that PFLS members had used the blue-fletched arrows: the task force leader had warned against hasty action, using all his operator's wiles to posit misdirection, to give Tempus an honorable way out of accusing his own daughter of an attempt at murder.
"So you'll make an honest woman of my ... daughter. Just don't expect a dowry, congratulations, or any leniency on my part if you later wish you hadn't: a divorce will get you killed. So will unfaithfulness, or perfidy of any sort." It was the least he could do for his daughter. And, said before the emperor, Tempus's conditions bound like law. It was a good thing that a priest of Vashanka could have more than one wife, though Tempus wouldn't have wanted to be Molin when that one's first wife heard this news.
Torchholder blanched, but smiled and said, "I'm off to tell her, then. And you'll take care of the other matter... the little misunderstanding she had with certain troops of yours?"
"That goes without saying," Tempus growled while Theron looked back and forth between the two, uncomprehending.
When Molin had hurried away in a swish of robes, Theron elbowed Tempus and said, light eyes sparkling, "Don't suppose you'd tell an old warhorse what all that was about?"
"Petty squabbles, unimportant. Now tell me about this expedition you want to mount-the one to the uncharted east, beyond the sea. It interests me; I'm restless. My men need some mortal enemies to fight-this going up against magics and the gods tends to dull an army's spirit. They want a battle they can win upon their own."
And Theron was glad to do that. They worked it out, on the way down to see Nikodemos and the fabled Stormchildren in their nursery: Tempus would take his forces-Stepsons and 3rd Commando and whomever else he chose from the empire's legions, and strike east. He'd ship the horses such cavalry must have, and weapons and provisions; he'd bring back intelligence and rare goods, if there were any; he'd set up embassies for trade and size up weak principalities for conquest. And he'd do it without any help from witch or god-taking just Jihan (and Randal) and his fighters.
The two old friends shook hands as they came down a flight of stairs and headed for the nursery, with Theron sighing wistfully, "I only wish that I could join you, Riddler. This kinging is even less than it's cracked up to be. But it makes me feel less trapped, setting you free, even for a few months...."
Tempus pushed the door inward and Theron fell silent.
The Rankan emperor remembered Nikodemos from the battle for the throne at the Festival of Man. He'd been with Tempus once when the Riddler had had to bail his Stepson out of a Rankan jail.
The ashen-haired youth sitting with a babe on either knee looked tired, wan, and somehow much too gentle to be the same much-lauded fighter. But when Niko raised his head and wished them life and glory, it was clearly the youngster whose fate was dogged by a Nisibisi witch.
Tempus left Theron's side and strode to where Niko sat.
As he did, Gyskouras buried his young head in Niko's chiton and began to weep at the sight of his natural father, and Alton, understanding more than children should, shook his dark-haired head and told his blond companion: "'Kouras, be brave. Don't cry."
"Let him. They're clear tears, and that's a blessing," Niko said softly to the children, then looked up at Tempus and beyond, to Theron: "You'll excuse me for not rising, lords. They're tired. They're undisciplined. They've had too many adventures for boys so young."
"So have you, we've heard. Stealth," Theron said kindly, remembering all that went on upcountry to win him the throne from Abakithis, and how much Niko had sacrificed to that end.
"You're still taking them to Bandara, Niko?" Tempus asked offhandedly.
"If you still agree. Commander. If you'll give me leave."
Tempus almost said that Abarsis had usurped command from him in the matter, but he was too pleased with the outcome of his talk with Theron. "Leave you have, and leave to meet us in three months back in the capital-we're mounting an expedition and I'll want you along."
Something changed in Niko's face, as if a tension had been drained. "You do? You will?" Niko let the children slide off his lap and got slowly, carefully, to his feet. The signs of all he'd been through then showed clearly: bruised bones, favored muscles, a stiffness time would have to heal. "I'm glad.. .1 mean... you might have thought me too much trouble-all I bring with me, wherever... my witch-curse and my ghosts and all."
"You're the best I've got, Niko." said Tempus levelly. "And the only man I've called partner in a century. Some things can't be changed."