He was past caring; things in Sanctuary were too confused for one man, even onenear-immortal, god-ridden avatar of a man, to set aright. He would take Jihanand go north, with or without the Stepsons - his accursed presence among themand the love they bore him would kill them if he let it continue: if the god wastruly gone, then he must follow. Beyond Sanctuary's borders, other Storm Godsheld sway, other names were hallowed. The primal Lord Storm (Enlil), whom Nikovenerated, had heard a petition from Tempus for a clearing of his path and hisheart: he wanted to know what status his life, his curse, and his god-bond had,these days. He awaited only a sign.
Once, long ago, when he went abroad as a philosopher and sought a calmer life ina calmer world, he had said that to gods all things are beautiful and good andjust, but men have supposed some things to be unjust, others just. If the godhad died, or been banished, though it didn't seem that this could be so, then itwas meet that this occurred. But those who thought it so did not realize thatone could not escape the intelligible light: the notice of that which neversets: the apprehension of the elder gods. So he had asked, and so he waited.
He had no doubt that the answer would be forthcoming, as he had no doubt that hewould not mistake it when it came.
On his way to the Maze he brooded over his curse, which kept him unloved by theliving and spurned by any he favoured if they be mortal. In heaven he had abrace of lovers, ghosts like the original Stepson, Abarsis. But to heaven hecould not repair: his flesh regenerated itself immemorially; to make sure thiswas still the case, last night he had gone to the river and slit both wrists. Bythe time he'd counted to fifty the blood had ceased to flow and healing had