Strat had been with Ischade hardly long enough for a candle to bum low whenHaught, whom Straton hated, came gusting in the door.
The place was softly lit and full of colors; precious gems and silks and metalsstrewed the floor.
Straton was, by then, the finest thing she had, though-a human man, with all hisprowess, not an animated corpse or witchling.
She could love him, could Ischade, with a finer passion than the rest. But shecould feel in him a struggle, one that made shoulders sweat and muscles twitch.She'd known that, hold him though she would, the day must come when holdingStraton would be hard.
His narrow Rankan eyes were haunted, deep-set, his jaw squared with indecisionlately when he came. And now, rolling off her at the sight of Haught, a hated,half-understood rival, a symptom of all about Ischade Strat couldn't justify orwish away, he reached for a robe she'd found him, shrugged it on and, with justhis swordbelt, stalked outside.
"When you're done with... it, him, whatever... I'll be seeing to my horse."
Strat still grieved for his lost bay warhorse; its death was something she couldand would undo, if only she thought Stra-ton could handle the revelation thatdeath was no barrier to Ischade.
Oh, he'd seen Janni, seen Niko embrace an undead partner. And Strat had notreacted well.
"What is it, Haught?" she asked, impatient. She didn't like the hubris growingin this Nisi child. He was difficult, growing stronger, growing bold. And shewanted to get back to Straton, who served her ends, who worked her will andexcused her wiles and helped her hold her interests in the town. Ischade'sinterests were important. And they were too tied up with Strat now to let Haught