Not daring to turn and look Elene in the face, but not able to wait another moment, Vi said, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your prayers.” She drew her knife and rested it across her palms. “I made you a promise. I’ve done you and Kylar a great wrong. If you wish . . .  I deserve no less.”

Elene took the knife. After a minute, she said, “His mercies are new every morning.”

Vi blinked. She glanced over at Elene and saw a tear tracking down her cheek. “Uh, whose?”

“The One God’s. If he forgives you, how dare I not?”

What?

Elene took Vi’s right hand with her left. Then she stood, shoulder to shoulder with her, looking at the newborn sun. She held Vi’s hand firmly, but with nothing vindictive or tense in her grip. There was an aura about her of tremendous peace, peace so thick it slowly calmed Vi’s taut nerves.

After a few minutes, Elene turned to her. Vi was surprised to find herself brave enough to meet the woman’s eyes.

“I believe the God has a purpose for me, Vi. I don’t know what it is, but I know it isn’t murdering you.” Elene threw the knife aside. “We’re in a big mess, but we’re in it together. All right?”

50

Vürdmeister Neph Dada sat beneath an oak at the mouth of Quorig’s Pass, awaiting his spy. He hadn’t brought any of the two hundred Vürdmeisters he’d gathered to the meeting. If his spy was caught, he didn’t want her to be able to tell the Chantry anything useful. Of course, the catatonic Tenser Ursuul and Khali had traveled with him, and he kept them close—but hidden.

Eris Buel arrived at moonrise. She was not an attractive woman. Her eyes were close-set, her nose long, and her chin weak. She looked rather like a rat in makeup. Too much makeup at that. And she had moles. Everywhere. Garoth Ursuul had long let it be known that his female progeny were worthless to him except as killing practice for the aethelings. It was half true. Most of the girls served to weed out boys too weak to murder their own sisters, but Garoth sent wytchborn girls away at birth.

Few became as valuable as Eris Buel. Years ago, Garoth learned that Eris had roused the Speaker’s suspicions. Rather than lose her, Garoth had shipped her off to Alitaera and arranged her marriage to a nobleman. Eris had then caught the crest of a rising tide of resentment among the Chattel, the former magae who’d left the Chantry to marry. She was now poised to head that movement back to the Chantry, demanding recognition. Eris might even overthrow the Speaker.

“Eris,” Neph said, dipping his head.