As for “settling in,” that was proving far more difficult than any Valdemaran would be willing to accept. Alberich felt—well, he couldn’t put a name to it. “Dislocated and adrift” was part of it; “unsettled” far too mild. “Utterly alien” came close, but didn’t address the feeling of having no support beneath him. As if he were at the halfway point of a blind leap. It was far too late to go back, but he wasn’t sure he’d land safely and he certainly didn’t know what he’d find if he did. And that went for how he felt about the One God, too. For the first time, he’d had leisure to think about his religion and his own faith. He had questions. A great many of them. And none of them had answers.

For instance, if Vkandis wished to make peace between Karse and Valdemar, why not simply appear as He used to in the Great Temple? Why go to the trouble of having one single minor officer in the Sunsguard Chosen? It seemed an unreasonably convoluted path to follow to him.

But on the other hand—once again, the biggest stumbling block—who was he to be asking questions like that? He was only one man, one among many, who wasn’t even a priest. How could he possibly know what was best for Karse?

But why had Vkandis Sunlord left His land to fester on its own for so long? What had happened to all the miracles, the appearances, of the ancient days? Where was the Sunlord, that he allowed his shepherds to turn wolf and prey upon their flocks?

He wrenched his mind away from the doubts and questions, and turned it squarely to face the here-and-now.

“You say, ‘the rest of my instructors,’” he repeated carefully. “And it will take how long to learn to a Herald be?”

If I ever wish to do so, that is… There was one clear answer to why this Jadus had been chosen to play guide to him. There was nothing intimidating at all about the man, and nothing of duplicity either. At least they were holding to their promise; they would let him decide for himself with no pressure on their part.