‘And what is she to me, Cotillion?’

‘You are being obstinate, I think. The wrong question.’

‘Oh, then tell me what is the right question.’

‘What are you to her?’

Cutter grimaced.

‘The child approaches in the company of another woman, a very remarkable one, as you – and she – will come to see. And with a priest, sworn now to Treach. From him, you will learn ... much of worth. Finally, a demon travels with these three humans. For the time being...’

‘Where are they going? Why stop here, as Iskaral’s guests?’

‘Why, to collect you, Cutter.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Symmetry, lad, is a power unto itself. It is the expression, if you will, of nature’s striving for balance. I charge you with protecting Felisin’s life. To accompany them on their long, and dangerous, journey.’

‘How epic of you.’

‘I think not,’ Cotillion snapped.

Silence, for a time, during which Cutter regretted his comment.

Finally, the Daru sighed. ‘I hear horses. And Pust... in one of his nauseating diatribes.’

Cotillion said nothing.

‘Very well,’ Cutter said. ‘This Felisin... abused, you said. Those ones are hard to get to. To befriend, I mean. Their scars stay fresh and fierce with pain—’

‘Her adopted mother did well, given her own scars. Be glad, lad, that she is the daughter, not the mother. And, in your worst moments, think of how Baudin felt.’

‘Baudin. The elder Felisin’s guardian?’

‘Yes.’

‘All right,’ Cutter said. ‘It will do.’

‘What will?’

‘This path. It will do.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘Cotillion. This notion of ... balance. Something has occurred to me—’

Cotillion’s eyes silenced him, shocked him with their unveiling of sorrow ... of remorse. The patron of assassins nodded. ‘From her ... to you. Aye.’

‘Did she see that, do you think?’

‘All too clearly, I’m afraid.’

Cutter stared out the window. ‘I loved her, you know. I still do.’

‘So you do not wonder why she has left.’

He shook his head, unable to fight back the tears any more. ‘No, Cotillion,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t.’

The ancient coast road long behind him, Karsa Orlong guided Havok northward along the shore of the new inland sea. Rain clouds hung over the murky water to the east, but the wind was pushing them away.

He studied the sky for a moment, then reined in on a slight rise studded with boulders and slipped down from the horse’s back. Walking over to a large, flat-topped rock, the Teblor unslung his sword and set it point downward against a nearby boulder, then sat. He drew off his pack and rummaged in an outside pocket for some salted bhederin, dried fruit, and goat cheese.

Staring out over the water, he ate. When he was done, he loosened the pack’s straps and dragged out the broken remains of the T’lan Imass. He held it up so that ‘Siballe’s withered face looked out upon the rippling waves.

‘Tell me,’ Karsa said, ‘what do you see?’