But Abarsis spoke it to Tempus, as he had said it so long ago in Sanctuary,where he'd gone to die. "Life to you, Riddler, and everlasting glory. And toyour friend ... to our friend... Theron of Ranke, salutations."

Hearing his name shook Theron from his funk. But the old fighter was nearlyspeechless, quaking visibly.

Seeing this, Tempus recovered himself: "You scared us half to death. Is thisyour darkness, then?" Tempus stepped back and waved a hand toward the sky beyondthe corbeled ceiling overhead. "If so, we could do without it. Scares thelocals. We're trying to settle in a military rule here, not start a civil war."

A shadow passed quickly over the beautiful face of the Slaughter Priest andTempus, seeing it, wanted to ask, "Are you real? Are you reborn? Have you cometo stay?"

The shade looked him hard in the eye and that glance struck his soul and shockedit. "No. None of that, Riddler. I am here to bring a message and ask a favor-forfavors done and yet to be done."

"Ahem. Tempus, will you introduce me? It's my palace, after all," the emperorgrowled, bluffing annoyance, straining for composure, and casting covetousglances at the horses- if such they were-which stood at parade rest in theirtraces, ears pricked forward, just a bit of steam issuing from their nostrils."Favors," Theron murmured, "done and yet to be done...."

"Theron, Emperor of Ranke, General of the Armies and so forth, meet Abarsis,Slaughter Priest, former High Priest of Vashanka, former-"

"Former living ally," Abarsis cut in, smooth as a whetted blade, "and allystill, Theron. We've a problem, and it lies in Sanctuary. Speaking throughpriests is a matter for gods; my mandate is different. Tempus, whom we bothlove, must listen to gods, not priests, but on this occasion, I am... wellequipped..." His grin flashed as it had once in life: "... to interpret." Then