“Of course,” Gyre said. “The Order claims the moral high ground, but behind all their pious bleating are the centarchs and the Legions. The Chosen are gone, but as long as their heirs hold their weapons over the rest of us, who can stand up to them?” Genuine anger crept into his voice. “They say they have the right to rule, out of a duty to keep the rest of us safe. As though we were children, inferior, just because we weren’t born with whatever special trick that lets the centarchs touch deiat.”

Naumoriel remained silent, waiting. Gyre took a deep breath.

“I went looking for the Tomb because I thought there might be something here that would tip the balance in favor of ordinary humans,” he said. “The stories of the war say that only the Chosen could use deiat, but anyone could learn dhaka. I thought …” He shook his head. “Instead of the Tomb, I found Refuge, but my goal hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, how young you are.” A very slight smile crept across the old ghoul’s face, showing a line of pointed teeth. “And how ignorant of the true history of things. But now that you know our secrets are not simply lying around for the taking, what makes you think we have any use for you or your plans?”

“You must hate the Order, too,” Gyre said. “After what you did to the Chosen, the war—”

“Lies,” Naumoriel spat, suddenly rigid with fury. “The sun-lovers struck first, as they always did. My people wanted nothing but to be left in peace.”

“I believe you,” Gyre said. “All we know of the war comes from the Order. But there are stories of hunts and purges of your kind, even as the Chosen dwindled. At Deepfire—”

“They found our defenders too brave, our power too formidable,” Naumoriel said. His eyes got a faraway look, as though they were looking through the walls to the distant city. “But they dared not simply leave us be. Instead they broke the mountain around us and killed more of my people in one night than survive in the world today. And then they sent their slaves to hunt the cowering remnants through their own tunnels. The Chosen.”

“Elariel told me most of your people aren’t interested in anything happening outside Refuge,” Gyre said, watching the old ghoul carefully. He felt as though he were inching across thin ice, with a bottomless cold depth beneath him. “But you’re different, aren’t you? You sent Kit out into the world for a reason.”

“Don’t presume to know me, boy.” Naumoriel’s chair lurched sideways, turning abruptly. “I have little use for your kind at the best of times. You and Kitsraea have already failed me once.”

“If it’s the Core Analytica you need, I can get it for you. Give me the power to confront the Order, and I will do whatever you require.”