“Yes.” She held his gaze, a thing few mortals could do unflinching. “And so we shall, until you relent or the Prophecy is fulfilled. Haomane has pledged it.”

“Haomane,” the Shaper mused, plucking the case that held the Helm of Shadows from the dais. “My Elder Brother, the Lord-of-Thought. Do you not find him an absent parent to his children, Lady Cerelinde?”

“No.” She stared, transfixed, as his dark fingers undid the case’s clasps.

“This was his weapon, once.” Satoris lifted the Helm and held it before him, its empty eye-sockets gazing the length of the hall. “It contained in its visage the darkness of Haomane’s absence, the darkness that lies in the deepest cracks of the shattered Souma, those things which all the Children of Uru-Alat fear most to look upon. To Ardrath the Counselor my Elder Brother gave it, and Ardrath called me out upon the plains of war.” He smiled, caressing the worn, pitted bronze of the Helm. “I prevailed, and now it is mine. And I have Shaped into it my own darkness, of truth twisted and the shadow cast by a bright, shining lie, of flesh charred to blackness by the wrath of merciless light. Will you gaze upon it, Haomane’s Child?”

So saying, he placed the Helm upon his head.

Cerelinde cried out and looked away.

“My Lord,” Tanaros whispered, stretching his hands helplessly toward the Throne. Pain, so much pain! “Oh, my Lord!”

“It is enough.” Satoris removed the Helm and regarded it. “Send for Lord Vorax,” he said to the Mørkhar Fjel, “that he might conduct the Lady to the quarters prepared for her. I will speak more with her anon. General Tanaros.” The gleaming eyes fixed him. “Tell me of Lindanen Dale, and what transpired thereafter.”

A SULLEN CAMPFIRE BURNED. ARMFULS of dried sedge grass were thrown upon it, sending sparks into the starry skies. Carfax watched them rise. He was able, now, to move his eyes. He could move his limbs, too, so long as he did not contemplate violence against his companions. The mere thought of it brought retching nausea.

“You are safe, here.” It was the Counselor who spoke, his voice calm and soothing. He pointed around the perimeter of an invisible circle with the butt-end of his staff. “Inside this ring, nothing can harm you; not even Lord Satoris. Do you understand?”

He did. All too well, he understood. He had failed.

“It is dangerous to keep him.” Firelight played over Blaise Caveros’ face; spare features, like the General’s, yet somehow stirring.

“He is no danger to us now.”

It was true. Carfax’s tongue was sealed, stuck to the roof of his mouth by force of will and the oath he had sworn. Silence was his only protection, his only weapon. His hands lay limp, upturned upon his thighs. Yet if he had the chance …

“Who are you? Why were you sent?”