“Can you not guess?” Blaise Caveros laid his sword across his knees. His dark eyes held Carfax’s in a steady gaze. “You, who have served under the Kingslayer? He trusted me, Staccian. Since we were boys. Always.” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “If the Kingslayer’s wife had not betrayed him, his blood would run in Aracus’ veins. Instead, Aracus is the last scion of the House of Altorus, while for a thousand years, my family’s name has been a byword for betrayal. Aracus Altorus measured me by the contents of my heart and made me his right hand. He gave my family back its honor, Staccian. Is that not enough? Can you say as much of Tanaros Blacksword?”

“No,” Carfax whispered.

“And Satoris Banewreaker?” Blaise’s voice hardened. “How is it you serve him? Has the Sunderer dealt so gently with his Staccian allies?”

“No.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Yes! I don’t know, my lord!” Carfax drew a long, shuddering breath. “What would you have me say?” he asked miserably, raising his bloodshot gaze. “He played us fair! Battle-glory and generous recompense for the fallen. That’s the bargain Lord Vorax has ever offered on Lord Satoris’ behalf, and from time out of mind, we’ve taken it. And he has kept his terms! For a thousand years, no enemy has lifted a blade within our borders, and no child has hungered. This, Lord Satoris has done for us. Can any other nation of Men claim the same? My family dwells in peace and comfort because I serve his Lordship. Is it so wrong?”

“If it keeps the world Sundered, aye.” Blaise’s tone was surprisingly gentle. “Forgive me, Staccian, but I do believe it.”

“You have so much faith!” The words burst from his lips. Carfax glared at them; glared at them all, for now the Ellyl had returned and all four were arrayed about the campfire. “How can you know? How can you be so sure?”

They glanced at one another, and at him, pitying.

It was Peldras who answered, lowering himself gracefully to sit cross-legged beside the fire. “Carfax of Staccia,” he said, “let me ask you this: How is it you cannot?”

Carfax shook his head, unable to articulate a reply.

“My people are dying.” The Ellyl tilted his head, regarding the distant stars. “We are fading, bit by bit. We are Haomane’s Children, and we drew our strength from the Souma. Without it, we are bereft. We are the Rivenlost. The way home is forbidden us.” He turned the weight of his luminous gaze on Carfax. “We are Haomane’s Children, and while we live, we are an affront to the Sunderer, and one he would destroy. Do you deny it?”

“No,” he said, miserable. “But—”