For a moment the only sound was the rustling of the wind through the trees. “What can we do?” Thalias asked at last.

“I honestly don’t know,” the Patriarch conceded. “I’ve done all I can. Even as my life stretches toward its conclusion, so my power and authority wane.” He smiled sadly. “Don’t look at me that way, child. This is as it should be, and as it must. The reins of command must be neatly gathered so as to be handed over to my successor without any sort of delay or uncertainty, lest the other families leap in to exploit such confusion to our detriment.”

“I understand,” Thalias said, shivering. She’d seen how politics colored relationships even among the professional warriors of the fleet’s warships. It must be far more virulent in the Syndicure. “Tell me how to protect him.”

“He has friends,” the Patriarch said. “Allies. He may not know how to gather them to his side when necessary. That will be your task.” He shook his head. “I knew from the start that politics wasn’t his strength. But I never realized just how blind he was to those shifting winds.”

“I’ll do my best,” Thalias said. “Assuming I’m still in the Mitth at day’s end.”

“Still in the family?” the Patriarch echoed, frowning at her. “What are you talking about, child? Of course you’re in the family. Your travel through the Trials may not have shown brilliance, but it was more than adequate. You’re officially a Trial-born now, Thalias, only one step from advancement to ranking distant.”

“Thank you,” Thalias said, bowing her head to him as a flood of relief washed through her.

“But only if you aren’t reported as apparently having fallen off the mountain,” the Patriarch said, some of his earlier humor peeking through the darkness of his warnings. “You’d best continue to the top. Study the staffs as you climb. Note the pattern and flow of family history. Meditate on the lives and triumphs of the Mitth.”

“And on their occasional failures?”

The Patriarch nodded, the humor fading again. “Especially their failures,” he said quietly. “Note closely the gaps in the memorial record, the asymmetries where a syndic’s or Aristocra’s efforts have been cut off. Failure can be a harsh but capable teacher.”

“But only when those who observe it learn from it.”

“Indeed.” The Patriarch reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for speaking with me, Thalias, Trial-born of the Mitth. And watch over your commander. I cannot help but feel that he holds the key to the Ascendancy’s future, whether that future be triumph or ultimate destruction.”

“I’ll watch over him,” Thalias promised. “To my own life or death, I’ll watch over him.”