'Not likely,' the young fighter, cranking the spring and lever so a boltnotched, said and triggered the quarrel which whispered straight and true tocentre his target. 'Did Crit send you? I'm fine, commander. He worries too much.We can handle her, no matter how it seems. It's just time we need ... she'ssuspicious, wants us to prove our faith. Shall I, by whatever means?'

'Another week on this is all I can give you. Use discretion, your judgment'sfine with me. What you think she's worth, she's worth. If Critias questionsthat, your orders came from me and you may tell him so.'

'I will, and with pleasure. I'm not his to wetnurse; he can't keep that in hishead.'

'And Janni?'

'It's hard on him, pretending to be ... what we're pretending to be. The mentalk to him about coming back out to the barracks, about forgetting what's pastand resuming his duties. But we'll weather it. He's man enough.'

Niko's hazel eyes flicked back and forth, judging the other men: who watched;who pretended he did not, but listened hard. He loosed another bolt, a third,and said quietly that he had to collect his flights. Tempus eased away, heardthe range officer call 'Clear' and watched Niko go retrieve his groupedquarrels.

If this one could not breach the witch's defences, then she was unbreachable.

Content, he left then, and found Jihan, his de facto right-side partner, waitingastride his other Tros horse, her more than human strength and beautybrightening Smith Street's ramshackle facade as if real gold lay beside fool'sgold in a dusty pan.

Though one of the matters estranging him from his Stepsons was his pairing withthis foreign 'woman', only Niko knew her to be the daughter of a power whospawned all contentious gods and even the concept of divinity; he felt the cool