Us gazed down on him. "You, beloved Son of Shadow, have defeated a god and restored Me to my own people in Sanctuary. Further, as Va-shanka had become the most powerful of the gods of Ranke, that people's power will wane. Empires die slowly, but it has begun, as of this moment."
"Yes," Hanse said almost plaintively, not even realizing the enormity of his service to gods and Ilsigi and world, "but... now? What of me- now?"
"Fa-ther," Eshi said with the sound of accusation in her voice, "his neck is broken!"
Us said quietly, "Now, Hanse, hero, you are dying."
"But-"
"His head struck this nasty damned stone and he's paralyzed from the neck down! He feels nothing, nothing!"
"But that cannot be," Ils went on, as if he had heard neither of them. "You cannot be dying, for you cannot be dead, for he who did death on you does not exist on this plane. Therefore a paradox exists, if you are dying. Therefore you cannot be dying."
Pain rose up in Hanse then, as again his body came alive, and he moved his head to look down at Eshi, whose weight was partially on him, and then that was all he felt, for all pain fled and so did each scratch and bruise.
"Uh-pardon me, uh, Lady Goddess," he grunted, and Hanse rose to face his god. To him clung the daughter of that god, herself a god. "And now? After all this, my god-what am I?"
"Now, Hanse, you return. For ten circuits of your world around the s-that is, for ten circuits of the sun-you shall have what you wish. All that you desire. We shall not be available to you. Then we shall, and you will face me again, beloved Hanse, and tell me what is your desire."
"But-"
Eshi clung to him, but her grip was broken, her fingers torn free of the mailed hero of the Ilsigi by the wind of Ils that rushed him back to Sanctuary; back to his own beloved, squalid little Thieves' World.
A glance upward showed him more of the impossible that had lately become all too commonplace for the Son of Shadow. The sky was precisely as it had been when he departed on his mission. He even recognized the oddly formed little cloud 'way out there above Julavain's Hill. It looked just like a-
But even as he paced along the narrow Maze "street," the cloud was coming apart, changing, never to be the same again.
Information was yielded Hanse by that. But it was for realization later, the fact that while hours or days had been consumed in that mighty combat in a chamber of the House of Infinity, in Sanctuary exactly no time had passed at all.
Just now, in the darkness of Slick Walk, an accoster separated itself from the shadows along one wall and glided into his path. The fellow bulked large, too.
"You're not in a hurry are you, little fellow?" the voice said, mocking him. "Carrying a purse?"
"Not tonight," Hanse said, stepping into the light that fell between them.
He drew a long sword from a silver-flashing sheath buckled over fine dark armor that rang softly with the movement of mailed sleeve on chest. At the same time he showed teeth and the blade moved up to catch the light and the footpad whirled and ran for absolutely all he was worth.
Chuckling softly, Hanse moved on along Slick toward the Serpentine.
Now those gods with whom he was so intimate had a strange way of expressing themselves sometimes, but he was sure Ils had said that he could have anything he wished for... what did He mean? Ten circuits of the sun was subject to interpretation.
Did the god mean only ten days? Surely He had not meant ten years?
Oh well. Ten days or ten months or ten years, Hanse would take them as they came-each as it came. One at a time, he mused, and he yawned.
To begin with he wished that he were not at all tired, and then he made another wish as well, grinning, and when he entered his room there she was, waiting all low-lashed and smoky-eyed, in his bed.
(Sleeping entwined, they were awakened later by a horrific vivid lighting of the sky that quite occluded the late-rising moon, but that was the sort of paradox that both Reality and minor gods such as Vashanka and Ils allowed, and countenanced. It was enough to bring anyone wide awake and it was frightfully early, but Hanse found something to do.)
FOOTNOTES:
[i] "The Vivisectionist," in Shadows Of Sanctuary; Ace Books, 1981.
[ii] "Shadowspawn," in Thieves' World; Ace Books, 1979.
EPILOG
The fishing fleets of Sanctuary made the first sighting.
Haron saw a strange sail and called Omat to show it to him. By the time he had shaded his eyes from the sun's glare and located the strange ship, there were five sails-then twenty, all with the strange lateen rigging he had seen the day of the Old Man's disappearance... only these ships were larger, much larger.
He began working quickly, his one arm aching and cramped with the effort of quick-hauling his nets. The alarm spread from boat to boat and soon the entire fleet was on the move to shore. Some abandoned their nets and traps, preferring to lose their equipment to remaining there on the fishing grounds.
By the time they reached the piers, over a hundred sails were in view, all on an unwavering course for the town called Sanctuary.
Word spread through the city like wildfire. A fleet, a big one-bound for Sanctuary. Some said it was an invasion from the north. Others argued hotly that the design of the ships was not northern; their specific point of origin was unknown, save that they could not be from the Northern Kingdoms.
All that was known for sure was that before nightfall new feet would tread the streets of Sanctuary. Some panicked, fleeing to the palace or the temples for reassurance. Others, more practical, began boarding up their shops and hiding their valuables.
Hanse Shadows? awn heard the news with mixed feelings, wishing anew he could be certain how long his guarantee of divine protection would last. Finally he decided that discretion really was the better part of valor and headed for the ruined estate that had been the scene of his recent adventures. An estate that was well outside the boundaries of Sanctuary proper. Things had been so much simpler before he had anything to lose.
Myrtis, ruling the Street of Red Lanterns from her Aphrodesia House, was perhaps the best prepared of any in town. A few curt orders were all that would be necessary to begin relocating her "staff to the tunnels beneath the city. Though worried about the chronic shortage of supplies in the chambers below, she was more worried about Lythande. The mage had been absent from town for some time now-and the oncoming fleet boded ill for any traveller's return.
The magical community of Sanctuary viewed the fleet with a mixture of anticipation and dread. There was magic in those ships, strong magic of a type they had never encountered before. Some, like Enas Yorl and Ischade, with nothing to lose, waited with curiosity, eager to add to their already great wealth of knowledge. The rest wove hurried spells of defense around themselves and prayed secretly to varied gods that strength alone would suffice.
Molin Torchholder, head priest of the Temple of Vashanka, had his hands full reassuring his cadre so that they might, in turn, calm the crowds of believers who pressed through the temple doors. Amidst his attempts to organize things, he was haunted by his own fears. He had worked to ground the Storm God's power, leaving the priesthood free to explain and interpret as was their god-given right and duty. He had thought himself successful, for lately Vashan-ka's presence was noticeably lacking in town.
Now this.
Perhaps his schemings had backfired. Where was the Storm God's protection now that a force threatened them? Just one good windstorm...