“Kindness?” Tanaros drew rein, halting their progression. Behind them, the Fjel chuckled, amused by their exchange. “Lady, my Lord Satoris has offered healing to the Dreamspinner more times than I can number.” He smiled grimly at her reaction. “Aye, indeed. Do you think the Lord of Darkhaven does not know how to wield Godslayer? He is a Shaper, one of Seven, no matter that Haomane abjures him. It is Ushahin’s choice, to wear this broken face, these crippled hands. He was not denied. He chose to keep his pain, his madness. Again and again, he has chosen.”

“It is not right.” She was shaken.

“Why? Because you say so?” Tanaros shook his head, nudging his mount to a walk. “You understand nothing.”

“Tanaros.” The fear in her voice and the fact that she spoke his name made him turn in the saddle. Her face was pale against the darkness of the tunnel, and her upraised chin trembled. “What does he want of me, the Sunderer? Why was I taken and yet not slain? It makes no sense. When you attacked …” Cerelinde closed her eyes briefly. “When you attacked, I thought you were Beshtanagi in disguise. Haomane help me, I would have sworn to it. Then I awoke, surrounded by Fjeltroll …” She shuddered, swallowing. “Why?”

Pity stirred in his heart, a dangerous thing. “Lady, I cannot say. Only trust that you will be unharmed. My Lord has sworn it.”

There was despair in her face, and disbelief.

“Be we moving or no, Lord General?” Hyrgolf’s rumbling voice called.

“Aye!” Tanaros tore his gaze away and dug his heels smartly into the black’s sides. It snorted, moving at a trot through the ranks of the Fjel, who offered good-natured salutes. “Call the march, Field Marshal!”

“March!” Hyrgolf shouted.

Onward they marched. Tanaros let them pass, falling in beside Ushahin Dreamspinner, who regarded him with an unreadable gaze. “You play a dangerous game, cousin,” he said.

Tanaros shook his head. “There is no game here.”

Ushahin, still clutching the case containing the Helm of Shadows to his belly, shrugged his crooked shoulders. “As you say. Were the choice mine, I would waste no time in killing her.”

“The choice is his Lordship’s.” Tanaros’ voice hardened. “Would you strip all honor from him?”

“In favor of survival?” Ushahin looked bleak. “Aye, I would”

Tanaros reached over to touch his crippled hand where it rested on the case. “Forgive me, cousin,” he said. “The Grey Dam of the Were is due all honor. She spent her life as she chose and died with her eyeteeth seeking her enemy’s throat”

“Aye.” Ushahin drew a deep breath. “I know it.” In the torchlit tunnel, his mismatched eyes glittered. “Do you know, cousin, my dam afforded you a gift? Even as she died. You will know it ere the end.”