“I would wonder if it was easier for paladins, had I not seen Paksenarrion’s face,” Selfer said. “When I was a boy, I heard of them and wanted to be one …”

Dorrin walked on. “So did I. But it was made clear to me, in my time in Falk’s Hall, that I was not.” Another few steps. “We have our own tasks, Selfer. When I knew Kieri Phelan in Falk’s Hall—”

“You knew him then? You never said—”

She shrugged. “No reason. He was older by a few years. I admired him greatly; many of us did. The commander of our year spoke highly of him as someone who had followed Falk’s path of service—he’d been with Aliam Halveric, as you know—and then through his own merits had been accepted into training.”

“Was he the same?”

“Yes … not exactly.” Dorrin felt her cheeks heating. Like the other young women in her class, she had found him handsome beyond bearing; they had discussed him, in their dormitory, when they thought the sergeants could not hear. Those tough older women had no patience with girlish chatter. From his flaming red hair to the broad-shouldered, fit body, the shapely legs, the … she forced that memory back. “When he was young,” she said instead, “he was already a natural leader, and he’d been to the wars with Aliam. No one else had actual fighting experience. He had most of us students wrapped around his finger; everyone wanted to be him, or be near him, or both.”

“I’m sure you had your own following,” Selfer said. “With all due respect, you must have been beautiful as a girl; you’re good-looking now.”

“I was a mess,” Dorrin said. “And I was always in trouble. It wasn’t the way my face was made, but how I used it. Growing up here, I learned lessons that made people distrust me, dislike me.”

“Well,” Selfer said, “people don’t distrust or dislike you now.”

“Except my own family, and that’s nothing new,” Dorrin said. “I hope that child lives—”

“Which one?”

“The one who was sickening, being prepared for a transfer. That’s what happened—one of the children I’d identified tried to force a transfer. Now we know it’s possible.”

“Gods! Which one?”

“The girl.” Dorrin felt tears stinging her eyes. The girl she might have been, had things been different. A girl who would never have her chance to escape. “I must make it better for the others,” she said. “Verrakai must not be a name of terror, treachery, evil.”

“You’ll do it,” Selfer said.

“That’s the scariest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Dorrin said. Her heart lifted as they came to the front entrance. The sun seemed brighter; the great doors looked less ominous. “Falk’s grace,” she said. “If Falk and the High Lord want this done, then surely it can be done.”

“And Gird,” Selfer said as they came up the steps.

“And Gird,” Dorrin said.

A kitchen maid waited for her in the reception room. “Cook says the pastry’s still waiting.”