Adelie laughed. "Last night, father. He asked me about weapon poets.
There's no use trying to lie out of it."
Greaves smiled at her. "That's right. I asked you, and from that moment
on you knew I was cleverer than Mayron thinks. But you never got away
to tell him that, did you? You know," he said thoughtfully, "you'd
better hope I win today. Mayron won't be too fond of you if I give him
any more shocks."
Adelie grinned. "I thought of that. But if you win, he dies. And if you
die...?"
"You will have had your glory anyway? You will have engineered the
battle of the gods, and dabbled in other pleasures, too?" Greaves was
still smiling, but Adelie's eyes grew wider. "Maybe it'll be that
simple, Adelie. But who can tell the minds of gods, hmm?"
And so David Greaves strode into the city of Shadows, followed by a
fearful multitude and two badly shaken people. He walked down a broad
avenue at whose end something black bulked and glimmered, while things
with black-filled eyes stood watching thin-lipped. And as he walked he
showed none of his fear.
* * * * *
He stopped at the end of the avenue, with the tall towers looming over
him, and stood facing the Temple of Shadows. There was no sign of life
in the square black opening that served as a door for the featureless
stone block, dark but not as dark as a Shadow.