“Because my prophecy was not unsought.” As before, the voice changed from moment to moment. “I am sworn, so long as mankind seek me here, to tell them somewhat of the future.”

“Who sought prophecy and gave you a chance to meddle in my business?” I asked.

The old woman’s mouth smiled, though her eyes remained blank. “Meddle? I suppose that is as good a word as any.” The sound of the young girl’s voice in the old woman’s mouth made the hair on the back of my neck rise. “Your dragon worried that you were not as he believed. He asked for my wisdom and then flinched at the cost. I gave you the opportunity to break through the barriers that had been placed between you and your magic.”

I was Shavigborn and served no gods but Siphern, He whose justice ruled the Northlands. Though Aethervon was being helpful now, I didn’t like Him.

My lip curled. “You used Oreg’s wishes to punish him. He asked for reassurance and you took my sister, whom he was sworn to protect, forcing him to endure the pain of his broken oath. Oreg had enough pain, you didn’t need to give him more.”

“It reminded him who he was—your slave and not your master.”

“Oreg belongs to no one,” I snapped. “And never should have.”

The god’s voice was a deep rumble, larger than the old woman. He sounded irritated. “Oreg is yours as much as Hurog is yours. If he had not been reminded of it, your will would have bowed before his as the sapling bows before an ancient wind, and the evil that twisted the world would yet remain.”

“You play games with people’s lives,” I said, remembering my sister’s eyes, blank like the old woman’s, and Oreg writhing on the ground at the base of the stone wall she’d stood upon. “You forget that they are fragile.”

The god laughed, soft as thistledown in the night, and answered me with the rich velvet of a whore’s trained voice. “Fragile does not describe you, Guardian of the Dragon. Thrice forged in fire you are and the stronger for it—as is the king who shall be. As the boy he was, he had no chance of outfacing his brother. But with the strength of his forging at Jakoven’s hands, he shall carve a path through the bodies of his foes—or shatter like a blade that has been hardened too much.”

The woman got up and bowed shallowly, as Stala taught me to bow to my opponents. Then she turned and disappeared into the foliage.

I swore and then turned to Kellen. “Do you see what I mean? Siphern save me from the whims of Tallvenish gods.”