The old man rose and staggered toward the sorcerer, hampered by a leg that had been broken and badly set years before.

The sacrifice, Auraya thought. Her heart began to race as she moved forward. Her plan relied on the Dunwayans being reluctant to break their customs, despite their intentions. She stepped in front of Ralam.

“By the edicts of Lore,” she said, facing Sen, “I claim the right to take this man’s place.”

The sorcerer blinked in surprise. He glanced aside at the warriors guarding the door and spoke in Dunwayan, gesturing dismissively at her.

“I know you understood me,” she said, striding forward to stand a pace from the sorcerer. “As did your warrior brothers. I claim the right to take the place of this man.”

Her heart was hammering now. Voices called out to Auraya, telling her to come back. The old man tugged at her arm.

“It’s all right, girl. I will go.”

“No,” she said. She made herself meet Sen’s eyes. “Will you take me?”

Sen’s eyes narrowed. “You choose freely?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

Someone among the audience shrieked her name and she winced as she realized it was her mother. Resisting the urge to look back, she followed the Dunwayans out of the Temple.

Once outside, Auraya felt her courage weakening. She could see Dunwayan warriors gathered in a half-circle around the gap in the village wall. Late-afternoon light set their spears glittering. There was no sign of Qurin or Priest Avorim. Bal stepped out of the half-circle of warriors. Seeing Auraya, he scowled and said something in his own language.

“She offered herself in exchange,” Sen replied in Hanian.

“Why didn’t you refuse?”

“She knew the ritual words. I was honor-bound to—”

Bal’s eyes narrowed. “We are the Leven-ark. We have abandoned all honor. Take—”

A warning was shouted. All turned to see a priestess standing in the gap in the wall.

The priestess was beautiful. Her gold-blonde hair was arranged in an elaborate style. Large blue eyes regarded all serenely. Auraya forgot all else but the fact that she was looking at Mairae of the White. Then Sen took her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her after Bal, who was marching toward the woman.

“Stay there, or she dies,” the Dunwayan leader barked.

Mairae regarded Bal intently. “Bal, Talm of Mirrim, Ka Lem of the Leven-ark, why are you holding the people of Oralyn prisoner?”

“Did your priest not explain? We demand you stop your alliance with Dunway. If you do not we will kill these villagers.”

“I-Portak does not sanction this action you have taken.”

“Our argument is with you and I-Portak.”

Mairae nodded. “Why do you seek to prevent the alliance when the gods want our lands to unite?”

“They did not proclaim that Dunway should be ruled by the White, only that our lands be allies.”

“We do not wish to rule you.”