She said nothing for a long moment, her flat eyes fixed upon him, and for an instant Sagander believed he saw what those children and elders must have seen, even as the sword swung down to take their lives. Suddenly chilled by terror, he stared up at the captain.

‘In the name of duty,’ Infayen said, ‘one must, at times, set honour aside. Were you not once tutor to a bastard whelp?’

‘The duty of which saw my honour betrayed,’ Sagander replied shakily. He shook his head. ‘I never abused her trust, captain. Ask her. I sought to save her from her mother.’

‘You would have failed.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Even the temple will fail,’ Infayen said.

‘Then you deem this pointless?’

‘It is not the coin in hand that makes the whore, tutor. It is making a commodity of one’s own body that makes a woman a whore. The flaw lies in the spirit. Sheltatha and her mother are the same in this regard, no different from Renarr. If you believe salvation is possible, then why in the next breath speak against the elevation of us soldiers?’

‘By your argument, captain, you oppose Hunn Raal’s desire, and indeed that of Urusander himself.’ Sagander leaned forward. ‘Is that a wise admission?’

‘In the name of duty one must at times set aside honour,’ Infayen repeated.

A moment later she was gone, the flap settling back down. Much of the brazier’s heat had been lost, and Sagander shivered, reaching for his furs. He settled on to the bed. The ghost moaned out its ache. These soldiers, he was coming to understand, were not all alike. Their uniforms deceived with the illusion of conformity, and as time stretched on – as this miserable winter persisted – the inherent weaknesses of the military system began to show.

Put a sword in every person’s hand, and they discover an edge to their opinions, but such opinions, no matter how inane and ignorant, twist to ambition, until each wielder draws blood upon every side. There can be no congress among the witless and the avaricious. Betrayal waits in the wings, and all that is won must then be carved into pieces, and should inequity appear, the slaying begins anew.

The creation of an army invites poison into the realm. I am well placed to observe this, and I will make it central to the thesis of my last great work. The stations of society are natural creations, governed by natural laws. This civil war, it is nothing but hubris.

Only from the temples will we find salvation. Syntara must be made to understand this. The balance of faiths she espouses must give guidance to the balance of classes in Kurald Galain. A few to rule, and many to follow.