‘If loved then she would have married him!’

‘Oh? And that would sit well with you?’

Degalla said nothing.

His voice a rasp, Jureg said, ‘I trust you are eager to be on your way. Give our regards to the painted floor, warlock.’

Receiving the dismissal with indifference, the three set off once more, and soon vanished round a bend in the track.

‘He was baiting you—’

‘I know what he was doing!’

‘Something about the assassin…’

‘Never mind him,’ she said.

‘Wife?’

‘The woman, the Warden.’

‘What of her?’

‘Perhaps it was but a trick of the light, but for an instant there, I could swear she was wearing a circlet of gold. A crown.’

‘I saw nothing like that.’

After a long moment, Degalla shook her head. ‘Of course not. You are right.’

‘Still,’ Jureg said in a low murmur, ‘I cannot but wonder…’

‘What now, husband?’

‘If Caplo could indeed hear Manalle and Hedeg, from so far away… perhaps we must assume he has heard us just now, as well.’

She glared at him.

* * *

‘Why did you speak so of Draconus?’ Finarra Stone demanded, once they were well beyond the two highborn.

Resh shrugged. ‘They irritated me.’

‘So you sent a viper into their snug bed. Does being petty please you?’

‘Sometimes,’ he admitted.

Caplo surprised her by speaking. ‘I was once a man with few doubts, Warden. Until the day I looked into Father Skelenal’s eyes, and saw in them a truth I could not countenance. Our god has been slain, but in the time before that death – in the decade upon decade of service and worship – that old man was a monster in our midst. We knew it, and yet we did nothing. In his eyes, Warden, I saw us all reflected, and liked it not.’

‘I am not aware of anything monstrous,’ Finarra said, ‘but then, why would I be? Yours is a secretive temple.’

‘Secretive, yes. Curious, isn’t it, how that habit so quickly devours propriety, decency, integrity, and indeed love. Beware any congress, Warden, that indulges in secrecy – you can be certain that it does not have your interests in mind, nor will it accord you the proper respect as befits the innocent, or, as they might label you, the ignorant. The secretive mind starts at every shadow, for it has peopled its world with suspicion.’

‘You describe a poisonous pit, Caplo, one in which I have no desire to dwell.’

‘Such a congress assembles a world in which assassins are necessary,’ Caplo said. ‘Such a congress may speak and act in the name of justice, but in justice it does not believe. Its only faith lies in efficacy, and the illusion of control it offers.’

‘In your world, then,’ said Finarra, ‘hope is fruitless.’

‘Not at all, Warden. That fruit is well fermented, and given freely to the uninitiated, until drunks stagger down every street, sleep in every alley. Hope is the wine, forgetfulness the reward. We will pour it down your throats from the moment of your birth, until the instant of your blessed death.’