Tanaros smiled grimly. “I mean to provide them with a distraction.”

“It will have to be swift. If the Lady escapes to tell her tale, they will spare no effort to capture Godslayer.” Unaccountably, Ushahin’s throat ached. His words came unbidden, painful and accusatory. “Why did you do it, Tanaros? Why?”

The delicate traceries of marrow-fire lingering in the stone walls were growing dim. The hollows of Tanaros’ eyes were filled with shadows. “What would you have me answer? That I betrayed his Lordship in the end?”

“Perhaps.” Ushahin swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “For it seems to me you did love her, cousin.”

“Does it?” In the gloaming light, Tanaros laughed softly. “In some other life, it seems to me I might have. In this one, it was not to be. And yet, I could not kill her.” He shook his head. “Was it strength or weakness that stayed my hand? I do not know, any more than I know why his Lordship allowed her to take his life. In the end, I fear it will fall to you to answer.”

A silence followed his words. Ushahin felt them sink into his awareness and realized for the first time the enormity of the burden that had settled on his crooked shoulders. He thought of the weavers in the gulch, spinning their endless patterns; of Calanthrag in her swamp with the vastness of time behind her slitted eyes. He laid his hand upon Godslayer’s rough hilt, feeling the pulse of its power; the power of the Souma itself, capable of Shaping the world. The immensity of it humbled him, and his bitterness gave way to grief and a strange tenderness. “Ah, cousin! I will try to be worthy of it.”

“So you shall.” Tanaros regarded him affection and regret. “His Lordship bid me teach you to hold a blade. Even then, he must have suspected. I do not envy you the task, Dreamspinner. And yet, it is fitting. In some ways, you were always the strongest of the Three. You are the thing Haomane’s Allies feared the most, the shadow of things to come.” Switching his sword to his left hand, he extended his right. “We waste time we cannot afford. Will you not bid me farewell?”

Here at the end, they understood one another at last.

“I will miss you,” Ushahin said quietly, clasping Tanaros’ hand. “For all the days of my life, howsoever long it may be.”

Tanaros nodded. “May it be long, cousin.”

There was nothing more to be said. Ushahin turned away, his head averted. At the top of the winding stair, he paused and raised his hand in farewell; his right hand, strong and shapely.

And then he passed through the left-hand door.