“Aye.” Dani shuddered. “Uncle, I am afraid. You must choose. You are my guide, and I trust you. Whichever path you choose, I will follow.”

In the darkness, Thulu nodded. “So be it. Leave me to think upon it, and I’ll name my choice come dawn.”

ELEVEN

ELEVEN

MEARA REACHED FOR THE SOUP ladle.

“Not that one.” Thom, who cooked the soups, didn’t look up from the turnip he was chopping. “The Lady’s is in the small pot. Mind you don’t confuse them.”

Despite the sweltering heat of the kitchen, Meara shivered as though an icy finger had run the length of her spine. “What are you saying?” she whispered. “What are you doing, Thom?”

“What is best.” He worked the knife at blurring speed, thin, pale slices of turnip falling away from the blade.

“On whose orders?”

The knife went still then, and he did look at her. “By our lord’s will.”

He meant Ushahin, who was theirs. Who summoned them and gave them succor, who made a place for those who had no place. He had listened to the words she had spoken. There was a bitter taste in Meara’s mouth, and she was afraid to swallow. “He is one of the Three! He cannot gainsay his Lordship’s will!”

“No.” Thom regarded her, lank hair falling over his brow. “But we can do it for him.” He nodded at the door. “Hurry. Lord General Tanaros returns soon.”

She filled the tray in haste, ladling soup from the small pot into a clay crock. It was of Dwarfish make, simple and fine. The soup was a clear broth with sweet herbs. It steamed innocently until Meara placed the lid on the crock, sealing in its heat. She selected three pieces of white bread, wrapping them in a linen napkin, then hurried out of the kitchen.

In her haste, she almost ran into Lord Ushahin.

“Meara!” He steadied her. “Is your errand so urgent, child?”

“I don’t know, my lord.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes; the one with its pale, splintered iris, the other solid pupil. In its dilated blackness was that understanding beyond understanding of all the spaces between, all the lost souls who had been thrust into them and forgotten. It was beautiful to her, and comforting. “Is it?”

He saw the tray then and understood that, too. Ushahin Dreamspinner shook his head gently, releasing her. “Do not speak to me of what you carry, Meara. Whatever it is, I may not know it for certain.”

“I’m … I’m not certain, my lord. But whatever it is, is it worth …” She swallowed, tasting the bitter taste. “Defying his Lordship?”