Lately, a pair of Stepsons had been her particular concern. And Jagat - herfirst lieutenant in espionage - was no less worried. Even their Ilsig contact,the unflappable Lastel who had lived a dozen years in Sanctuary, cesspool of theRankan empire into which all lesser sewers fed, and managed all that time tokeep his dual identity as east-side entrepreneur and Maze-dwelling barman uncompromised, was distressed by the attentions the pair of Stepsons were payin her.
She had thought her allies overcautious at first, when it seemed she would behere only long enough to see to the 'death' of the Rankan war god, Vashanka.Discrediting the state-cult's power icon was the purpose for which the Nisibisiwitch, Roxane, had come down from Wizardwall's fastness, down from her shroudedkeep of black marble on its unscalable peak, down among the mortal and thedamned. They were all in this together: the mages of Nisibisi; Lacan Ajami(warlord ofMygdon and the known world north of .Wizardwall) with whom they hadmade pact; and the whole Mygdonian Alliance which he controlled.
Or so her lord and love had explained it when he decreed that Roxane must come.She had not argued - one pays one's way among sorcerers; she had not worked hardfor a decade nor faced danger in twice as long. And if one did not serve Mygdon- only one - all would suffer. The Alliance was too strong to thwart. So she washere, drawn here with others fit for better, as if some power more than magicalwas whipping up a tropical storm to cleanse the land and using them to gild itseye.
She should have been home by now; she would have been, but for the hundred shipsfrom Beysib which had come to port and skewed all plans. Word had come fromMygdon, capital of Mygdonia, through the Nisibisi network, that she must stay.