The city guardsmen were like the keres, doom-bringers of merciless vengeance.

Something awful is always going to happen, Arton. It's Sanctuary. You're a Stepson. Awful is a big part of your job.

So some will be left who remember.

Fury from the heavens; fury at the gods - inseparable.

When you give death, you give of your own life - every time.

Here and now was always where Tempus was, not off somewhere in the realm of Greater Good or Mortal Soul or Eternal Consequence. He'd lost the ability to determine greater good, if there was one; his mortal soul he'd given up on long ago. And as for eternal consequence - he was its embodiment.

Nothing powers hate better than embarrassment.