Neither the historian nor the High Priestess spoke for a time, and yet neither seemed eager to begin the return journey. Finally, Lanear said, ‘If Cedorpul proves his power, he will be most useful in opposing Syntara and Hunn Raal.’

‘Then you had best mend that bridge and be the first to cross,’ Herat said.

‘I shall bribe him with privilege.’

The historian nodded. ‘Among tactics, nothing else proves as successful. Feed his vanity, make costly his ire.’

‘Such efforts would fail with Endest Silann.’

‘Yes.’

‘He remains dangerous.’

‘Indeed. While Mother Dark continues to make use of him.’

‘I will think on what to do about that,’ she said, drawing out a clay pipe and a pouch: rustleaf mixed with something else.

‘He kept her attention away from us.’

‘What of it?’

‘He knew, even then. What she might see.’ Then he shook his head. ‘Look at us, hiding from our goddess, and relieved by her continued ignorance. As prophet, Endest Silann walked among the commonfolk. He opened his hands so that she could not turn away, could not blink. You think by this act did he condemn the faithless, the misguided, the banal selfishness of each person who suffered that regard. But I think, now, the one he sought to condemn was her.’

To that she had no reply. He watched her tamping the herb into the bowl. She then tipped in some embers from a silver and enamel box that was now part of her regular attire, tied to her sash by a leather string. We are creatures of ritual and habit, repeating patterns of comfort. Alas, too often we also repeat patterns of disaster. As every historian cannot help but comprehend. From the minuscule and mundane to the monumental and the profound, we draw and redraw the same maps, enough to make a book, enough to make a life.

Smoke plumed on the breeze.

Clouds inside and out. Obscure me from myself, that I might imagine my demeanour noble, my stance statuesque. Yes, I will have some of that.

* * *

Endest Silann found Cedorpul on the road, leading his horse by the reins. As he slowed his mount to a walk and drew up alongside the priest, Cedorpul cast him a dark glare. ‘Damned beast threw a shoe. I had hoped to catch Silchas Ruin.’

‘You hope for many things,’ Endest said.

‘You were of little use back there. I once knew you as a friend. Now, I know not what you are.’

‘Apparently, an acolyte once more. Punished for my walk in the market. And now, it seems, distrusted. But I wonder, is it me the High Priestess would see excluded from council, or Mother Dark?’