She came announced, filling the tower chamber with her unearthly beauty. Lilias had grown accustomed to the handmaidens; the Lady Nerinil was something else altogether. How was it, Lilias wondered, that even among the Rivenlost, one might outshine another? Perhaps it was a form of glamour, a remnant of the magics they had lost when the world was Sundered. She was glad she had asked the handmaidens to remove all mirrors from her room.

“Sorceress of the East!” Nerinil paced the chamber, unwontedly restless for one of her kind. Her tone was belllike and abrupt. “There is a thing that troubles me.”

Lilias laughed aloud. “Only one, Lady?”

The Lady Nerinil frowned. It was an expression of exceeding delicacy, the fine skin between her wing-shaped brows creasing ever so slightly. “In the Council of Malthus, I asked a question of you; one to which you made no reply.”

“Yes.” Lilias remembered; the sweet, ringing tones filled with anger and incomprehension. Why would you do such a thing? She looked curiously at her. “I answered with a question of my own. It was you who did not wish the conversation furthered, Lady. Why, now, do you care?”

Nerinil’s luminous eyes met hers. “Because I am afraid.”

Lilias nodded. “You have answered your question.”

“Fear?” The Ellyl noblewoman gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Only fear? I am afraid, Sorceress, but I do not condemn thousands to death because of it.”

“Yes,” Lilias said wearily. “You do. You, and all of Haomane’s Allies. What do you think will happen when they march upon Darkhaven?”

The Lady Nerinil shook her head, her dark hair stirring. Tiny diamonds were woven into it, and it gleamed like the Aven River reflecting stars at night. “Your question was asked and answered, Sorceress. You know our plight and our dream. We march upon Darkhaven despite our fear, and not because of it.”

Lilias shrugged. “Doubtless that will prove great comfort to the wives and mothers of the slain. I’m sure they will be pleased to know a Midlander farmer’s son died so that the Rivenlost may behold the face of Haomane once more.”

A flash of anger crossed the Lady Nerinil’s features. “You are swift to condemn Haomane’s Allies for leading soldiers to take arms against the Sunderer, Sorceress. And yet you deceived us and sought to lead us into the Sunderer’s trap to be slaughtered. Is this not hypocrisy? The Rivenlost had done nothing to threaten or harm you.”

“No,” Lilias agreed, gazing out the window. “But I would have been next.”

There was silence, then. For a long time, the Lady Nerinil said nothing, for the Ellylon were incapable of lying. “Perhaps,” she said at last, and her voice was low and melodious. “Like the Sunderer, you were a dragon-friend.”

“I was that.” Lilias swallowed, tasting the salt of her tears. Oh, Calandor!

“And your life was worth the lives of thousands?”