Renarr had to credit Syntara’s self-possession, in that she neither stepped back nor flinched from Urusander’s anger. ‘You will find it meted out, milord, by your hand, from a position of equality – from the Throne of Light, which will stand beside the Throne of Dark. This is why the highborn will gather against you. It is why they will fight your ascension. But you, Urusander, and Mother Dark – only the two of you, bound together, can stop this. From that throne, you will force from the highborn every concession you desire—’

‘It is not for me that I desire anything!’

‘For your soldiers, then. Your loyal soldiers who, as you have said, deserve to be rewarded.’

A few moments passed, in which no one spoke or moved. Then Urusander waved dismissively. ‘Bring to me this note from High Priestess Emral Lanear. I will read it for myself.’

‘Milord, I can recount it for you word for word—’

‘My reading skills will suffice, Syntara, unless you also desire the title of my secretary?’

Renarr snorted.

‘Very well, then,’ Syntara said. ‘As you wish, milord.’

Their departure was marked by the hollow thumps of the historian’s crutches. As the doors closed, Renarr said, ‘You’ll never see it, you know.’

He shot her a searching look.

‘It will have been transcribed,’ Renarr went on. ‘There will be a notation from Syntara attached, explaining that the original was in High Script, or some arcane temple code. They are not done with playing you, Father. But now, after today, there will be a new diligence to their scheming.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it seems that you have awakened to this moment, and your place in it.’

He sighed. ‘I miss Sharenas Ankhadu.’

‘The one who set about murdering your captains?’

‘I gave her cause. No. They gave her cause. Slayers of innocents, leaders of a misguided pogrom. She was the sword in my hand.’

‘The true instigator of that pogrom still lives,’ Renarr said. ‘He bears the new title of Mortal Sword. And now he wields sorcery. Would that Sharenas had begun with him.’

He was now studying her. ‘Will you now stand in her place, Renarr? Are you to be my confidante?’

The question arrived somewhere between hope and a plea. ‘Father, when I last departed this keep, you sent a squad to escort me back. Now, here I am, no longer a plaything for your soldiers. Required to remain in your presence or, by your leave, in an adjoining room. Will you now make me your reluctant conscience? If so, best not chain me.’

‘I need no conscience but my own, Renarr. But… you saw through the subterfuge of this meeting. You swiftly and truly gleaned the purpose of that miserable scholar. You grasp – instinctively, I believe – the needs of this new religion, its raw hunger and brutal pragmatism. And she accused you of cynicism! In any case, Syntara had not planned for you. She left her flank exposed, and Sagander served as a poor excuse in its defence.’