The title “Beyond Sanctuary” suggests to me a journey of exploration, setting out of known place, where it is safe to remain ensconced, to risk life and limb in a fight, a brutal war between forces of good and of evil. This is what this story, with Tempus in the lead, is about: “He has ridden at a devil’s pace out of the sanctuary, home to the Stepsons’ barracks, which once had been a slaver’s estate and thus had rooms enough for Tempus to allow his hard-won mercenaries the luxury of piracy.”
As the immortal commander of the Sacred Band cavalry, Tempus is at once blessed and cursed with his fate: “He lived interminably, though he could not sleep at all… And wounds he took healed quickly — instantly if the god loved him that day, more slowly if they had been quarreling.” Here is a delightfully pagan, mythological world, where gods have caprices just like us, and strife abounds in their realm, which is reflected in ours. There are conversations with gods, and pleas that end up neglected. When the altar of the god of war is destroyed, “‘Well, Vashanka?’ he tested. ‘It’s your altar they took down.’ But the god was silent.” In the final analysis, the emotions given us by the gods are not external to us. They become our essence. “The fury he’d once thought was lent him by a god raged inside him. Now he knew it was his own.”
The author, Janet Morris, writes with painterly images that stir the heart, and bring to mind the epic poetry of the Odyssey. “The assault on the high peaks keep came with dawn… Pink tipped arrows raced a hundred yards straight up, glowing with Enlil’s sanction, almost invisible in the tricky light of sunrise.”
Morris hovers over her magical universe, bringing attention to one character, then another. I was particularly drawn to Roxanne, the Nisibisi witch who stalks the Stepsons. “Roxanne cursed so that the snakes, once again in her service, rushed for cover, as soon as they’d slithered into her study to announce that Tempus was at the front door.” Despite her dark character, I find myself feeling for her at several twists of the story. Here is one: “But Datan’s spell worked faster. From his finger a bolt of royal blue shot out and caught her by the throat. Struck dumb, she reeled and stumbled backwards, hit a wall and slid down it, nearly senseless, crumpling in a heap.” And here, another: “If anything had won the day on Wizardwall and lost the war for magic, it had been her feelings for a youth who didn’t even know her.” I loved her pride, and her power. “She was, after all, Death’s Queen; she was eternal; she was Roxanne.”
The title “Beyond Sanctuary” suggests to me a journey of exploration, setting out of known place, where it is safe to remain ensconced, to risk life and limb in a fight, a brutal war between forces of good and of evil. This is what this story, with Tempus in the lead, is about: “He has ridden at a devil’s pace out of the sanctuary, home to the Stepsons’ barracks, which once had been a slaver’s estate and thus had rooms enough for Tempus to allow his hard-won mercenaries the luxury of piracy.”
As the immortal commander of the Sacred Band cavalry, Tempus is at once blessed and cursed with his fate: “He lived interminably, though he could not sleep at all… And wounds he took healed quickly — instantly if the god loved him that day, more slowly if they had been quarreling.” Here is a delightfully pagan, mythological world, where gods have caprices just like us, and strife abounds in their realm, which is reflected in ours. There are conversations with gods, and pleas that end up neglected. When the altar of the god of war is destroyed, “‘Well, Vashanka?’ he tested. ‘It’s your altar they took down.’ But the god was silent.” In the final analysis, the emotions given us by the gods are not external to us. They become our essence. “The fury he’d once thought was lent him by a god raged inside him. Now he knew it was his own.”
The author, Janet Morris, writes with painterly images that stir the heart, and bring to mind the epic poetry of the Odyssey. “The assault on the high peaks keep came with dawn… Pink tipped arrows raced a hundred yards straight up, glowing with Enlil’s sanction, almost invisible in the tricky light of sunrise.”
Morris hovers over her magical universe, bringing attention to one character, then another. I was particularly drawn to Roxanne, the Nisibisi witch who stalks the Stepsons. “Roxanne cursed so that the snakes, once again in her service, rushed for cover, as soon as they’d slithered into her study to announce that Tempus was at the front door.” Despite her dark character, I find myself feeling for her at several twists of the story. Here is one: “But Datan’s spell worked faster. From his finger a bolt of royal blue shot out and caught her by the throat. Struck dumb, she reeled and stumbled backwards, hit a wall and slid down it, nearly senseless, crumpling in a heap.” And here, another: “If anything had won the day on Wizardwall and lost the war for magic, it had been her feelings for a youth who didn’t even know her.” I loved her pride, and her power. “She was, after all, Death’s Queen; she was eternal; she was Roxanne.”
Five stars.