If anything, this cut deeper, and again it was a moment before Syntara recovered. ‘Milord, this is no mere cult, I assure you.’ She gestured, almost helplessly. ‘See this burnish of Holy Light? See how the air itself is suffused with Light’s essence?’

‘With eyes closed and yearning for sleep,’ Urusander growled, ‘I see it still.’

‘Milord, you are named Father Light.’

‘Syntara, I am named Vatha Urusander, and the only title I hold is that of commander to my legion. What makes you believe I desire a union with Mother Dark? What,’ he continued, his tone growing harsher, ‘in my history, invites you – and Hunn Raal – into the belief that I desire her as my wife?’

‘Nothing,’ Syntara replied, ‘except your legacy of honouring duty.’

‘Duty? And who proclaims it so? Not Mother Dark. Nor the highborn, for that matter. You crowd me with your expectations, High Priestess, but the voices that roar through my skull deafen but one ear. From the other, why, blessed silence.’

‘No longer,’ Syntara replied, and at last Renarr noted a glimmer of something like triumph in her mien. ‘I am now engaged in conversation with High Priestess Emral Lanear, and no, it was not I who initiated the contact. Milord, she acknowledges the necessity of balance, a redress in the name of justice. She recognizes, indeed, that there must be a union between Father Light and Mother Dark. Milord, if she does not speak on behalf of her goddess, then she can hardly lay claim to her title of High Priestess, can she? This,’ she said, taking a step closer, ‘is the overture we were seeking.’

‘By marriage arranged,’ Urusander said with a bitter smile, ‘the state wins peace. By choices removed, we are to be content with one path.’

‘Mother Dark concedes,’ Syntara said. ‘Is this not victory?’

‘And yet the Hust Legion readies for war.’

The High Priestess made a dismissive gesture. ‘It but restores itself, milord. How could it do otherwise?’

‘Better to bury those cursed weapons,’ Urusander said. ‘Or melt them down. Hust Henarald took his arts too far, into mysteries better left untouched. I decry Hunn Raal’s treachery, while a part of me understands his reason. But do inform this Mortal Sword, Syntara, that holy title or not, he will be made to answer for his crimes.’

Her brows lifted. ‘Milord, he does not acknowledge my authority over him, despite my overtures. When I first heard of the title he had invented for himself I sought out the Old Language, seeking an alternative that would properly belong within the temple hierarchy. I found the title of “Destriant”, signifying the position of Chosen Priest – yet a priest belonging to no temple. Rather, a destriant’s demesne is all that lies beyond sacred ground.’ She paused, and then shrugged. ‘He refused it. If Hunn Raal is to answer for his crimes, it must be Father Light who will stand in judgement.’

‘Not his commander?’