‘This is not how it was meant to be,’ he said. ‘If I did not move, it was with reason. If I chose to suspend judgement, I had good cause. Sharenas, we are not as we once were.’ He gestured, indicating his face, and then studied his hand, as it hovered before him. ‘Not this. The High Priestess sees far too much in such mundane attire. No, what has come to us – to us all – is a kind of ambiguity, as if our spirit has stumbled, suddenly lost.’ His gaze narrowed as he studied his bleached hand. ‘And yet, does this not invite the very opposite? The marks of faith?’ He glanced at her. ‘I am unchanged in that. She would call me Father Light, but that title is like a blow to the chest.’ Shaking his head, he looked away, letting his hand drop.

Father Light. High Priestess, have you no sense of irony? This father here has done poorly with his charges, true-born and adopted. Worse still, his soldiers run wild, like a family torn loose. He is father to thousands.

Commander, what will you do about your children?

‘Sir, Syntara would set you opposite, but equal, to Mother Dark. It is, I know, somewhat… simplistic. But perhaps that offers its own appeal.’

‘You cannot hold it in,’ he muttered, as if suddenly distracted. ‘Not for ever. No mortal has that capacity.’

‘Sir?’

His voice hardened. ‘Anger, Sharenas, is an unruly beast. We chain it daily, seeking the civil mien. Witness to injustices on all sides, appalled at the brazen abuse of that most basic notion of fairness, so arrogantly abrogated. And then, there is the effrontery. Indeed, humiliation. I would have walked away from it. You know that, Sharenas, don’t you?’

She nodded.

He went on. ‘But the beast broke free and now runs hard – but to where? Seeking what? Reparation or vengeance?’ He shifted to face south, as if he could somehow look upon the Citadel itself. ‘He painted what he saw, and now… now, Abyss take me, he sees nothing. By this terrible act of self-mutilation’ – he turned his head to meet her gaze – ‘did he make vow to the triumph of Dark? This is what I ask myself, again and again.’

Before me stands a man with too many thoughts and too few feelings. ‘Sir, Kadaspala was driven mad, by what he found, by what had been done to his sister and his father. There was no intent in what he did to himself, unless it was to claw out the anguish filling his head.’

After a moment, Urusander grunted, and his tone turned wry. ‘I lost grip on the chain and that beast is well beyond my reach now. I understand how it must seem, to Anomander, and to all the other highborn. Vatha Urusander waits in Neret Sorr, eager to begin the season of war.’

To that, she said nothing.

‘Sharenas, what word do you bring?’