In the simpler world of the cadet corps, no such compromises had ever entered into his personal equation. They only came when he left that world.

Perhaps that was why Aksel and Berthold hadn’t left it themselves… perhaps they had known, in their heart of hearts, that going out into the world would only begin a long train of broken vows.

Vows like the ones he broke when he accepted his place here, his position as the partner of a Companion.

But a vow went both ways. He had pledged himself to the service of Karse and the God; only later were vows required that he pledge to obey the word of any priest, and he’d had misgivings, but it was too late to try and back out at that point. At that same ceremony, though, there had been another set of vows—the priest who administered the oaths to the new officers had pledged on behalf of all priests to regard the new officers as Vkandis’ chosen, to stand beside them if accused, and succor them in need.

And he had quickly learned how little they honored those oaths.

The Sunpriests broke their vows to me long before I ever broke mine to them. Did that mean the pact between him and them was also broken? Was it wrong of him to feel that their betrayal released him from his oath? Or was he just trying to rationalize his own sins?

He realized, belatedly, that all this pacing was probably keeping poor Dethor awake. A glance outside showed him that the moon was well up, and there was plenty of moonlight silvering the grass outside; more than enough for him to pace all he wanted to without tripping over something in the dark.

With a silent apology, he let himself out through the salle, pacing across the wooden floor by the light entering through the clerestory windows, opening the outer door and stepping out into the waiting embrace of the night.

The chill air carried a hint of damp and a scent of grass; from the distance came the sounds of voices, too far off to be more than a murmur. But the very cadences were strange to his ear, and he felt an involuntary shiver of alarm he couldn’t suppress.

Oh, these Valdemarans! Not four marks into his first real day among them—he couldn’t count the time spent with the Healers—and look what had happened. They had told him the one thing he longed to hear, and had not realized that he longed to hear it—that he was needed. They offered for his inspection a gaggle of green children, good children, and told him that these young people would go out, unprepared, against the kind of animals he had fought against—unless he helped train them. And how—how—could he not have responded to that?