"When and where?"
"What?"
"This fight Mayron and you have both spoken of."
"Tomorrow at noon. In the city. But there's no need for it. Tomorrow Mayron dies, and the other Shadows die. You can watch or not—as long as you stay out of the way."
Greaves looked at Adelie. "Your daughter, Vigil, does not look much impressed."
"Impressed! Impressed!" The old man was very nearly dancing with rage. "I'll show you! Come with me." Vigil turned without looking back and pattered rapidly down the steps of the dais, his calloused feet slapping indignantly on the time-buffed stones.
Greaves frowned after him. Then he jerked his head to Adelie. "Come on," he said and they, too, walked quickly down the length of the court of the conquered monsters. And for the first time since their creation the pillared gargoyles did not have to bear the sight of Man.
The scent of Adelie's fragrance was in Greaves nostrils again as they followed the old man through the temple, past the altar where the eternal flame burned bright enough to sting. He said nothing to her. She volunteered no words of her own. But she walked close enough to brush his thigh with hers. Greaves smiled appreciatively.
Vigil led them to a small chamber in one wing of the temple. He flung open the door with a clatter of bolts in a concealed lock, and pointed inside. "Look—the two of you. It's not just Mayron who can dabble with machines. For every clever man, there is another just as clever."