He glared at her, thinking she was teasing him, but it was obvious she was perfectly serious. The hells! She was right, of course: Although she’d been glad to leave the temple, she was nevertheless sworn to the goddess in her heart in a way he could not fathom. No doubt she considered herself a hierodule still, even if she no longer served at the temple of Ushara, the Devourer, the Merciless One.

“That leaves Hasibal, the Formless One. Eh!”

He jumped, spinning around to see if anything was sneaking up behind him, but there was nothing except shadows.

“You might have been walking Hasibal’s path all along,” she continued, because the exclamation had been merely a grunt of consideration. “Still, you know what they say.”

“Must you drone on with this annoying prattle? When you were little, you were so quiet. The temple ruined you.”

“Our souls are bound to the land through our service to the gods. At birth we enter one of the twelve years, which determines much of the character of our heart. With our naming, we are linked to one of the Four Mothers, which determines the texture of our mind. Without service to the gods, we are as a boat without an anchor: adrift in stormy seas.”

“I survived twelve years adrift. But I might expire if I have to hear any more of this. Can’t we go to sleep now?”

“A difficult path to follow, but the deepest.”

“Sleeping?”

“Hasibal’s path.”

“Won’t you stop?”

“No!” Rising to face him, she seemed larger, brighter, fiercer, a wolf about to lunge. “Don’t mock the gods, Kesh. Don’t turn your back on them. We are what the gods make us.”

“We are what we make ourselves!”

“How can you separate the two? You only think you can.”

“You don’t know anything!”

Her weight shifted forward. Her shoulders stiffened. He thought she was ready to rip out his throat. She could kill him. He knew it. She knew it.

Then she smiled, and relaxed. Raising both hands, palms out, she nodded briefly. “You must walk your own path, Kesh. That’s truth. But there’s another truth you don’t want to hear and must hear: You must walk a path, or you’ll always be lost and wandering, as in the wilderness.”

“Aui! Can’t we—”

“Go to sleep? Yes. Scrub out that pot. I’ll check on the horses.”

He scoured the pot with a handful of gravel, then rinsed out the grit with water from the cistern. Bai took the pot and hauled more water for the horses. He wrapped himself in a blanket, in a walled corner where he’d get shelter when it rained during the night, and closed his eyes.

But he was restless. Their argument had robbed him of the ability to sleep. The words of the evening prayer to Beltak, Lord of Lords, King of Kings, the Shining One Who Rules Alone, whispered in his head.

Rid us of all that is evil. Rid us of demons. Rid us of hate. Rid us of envy. Rid us of heretics and liars. Rid us of wolves and of armies stained with the blood of the pure. He touched the sacred bowl tucked against a hip. “Teach me to hate darkness and battle evil. Teach me the Truth.”