“They make food. Homes. Tools. Weapons. Ships. They are the heart and soul of my people, and the reason that warriors like my lord exist. It is they whom the warriors like my lord truly serve, they whom he is pledged to nurture and protect.”

“A cynical man,” Marcus said, “would make mention of how much serving your people seems to resemble ruling them.”

“And a Cane would call cynicism in this context nothing but a form of cowardice,” Sha replied without rancor, “a decision to think and react without integrity based upon the assumption that others will do the same. When have you seen Varg do anything but strive to protect his people?”

Marcus nodded. “True.”

“The warriors live by a code of conduct. It is how they judge the worth of their lives. When one warrior veers from the code, it is the duty of others to call him to task on it—and, if necessary, to kill him rather than allow him to overstep his authority. Varg honors the code.”

“What relationship do the ritualists have with the makers?” Marcus asked.

Sha showed his fangs again. “For the most part, a cowardly one. They, too, are meant to be the servants of the makers. Their skills are meant to safeguard the makers against disease and injury. To guard our children as they are born. To offer counsel and comfort in times of loss. To mediate disputes fairly and to discover the truth when it is unclear.”

“I’ve only seen them using their skills at war.”

Sha let out a low growl. “The bloodspeakers’ abilities depend upon blood. They are fueled by it. This you know already.”

“Yes,” Marcus said.

“There was a time when it was considered something monstrous for a bloodspeaker to use any blood but his own—just as it is repellent for any warrior to order other warriors into battle without being able and willing to fight himself.”

Marcus frowned. “That would rather sharply limit what a given ritualist could do, I take it?”