“Actually,” Penthos put in, “you’d be surprised at how little people in Armesion actually think about the powers of Darkness. Being at the heart of the Light, they are remarkably lax at checking for corruption. It’s amazing what you can get away with.” In the silence that followed his words he looked up sharply, and then added, “Or so I’ve heard,” with a strained smile.

They were gathered around a campfire, on the road out of Ening’s Garth.

“Even so,” Cyrene put in, “what are you going to do? Parade the thing past the Potentate? Ask his blessing.”

“Not a word of what we are about will pass my lips, save that we are fighting against the Dark,” Dion told them all. “But I… I need the reassurance that will come—must come—from returning to Armesion. We will shortly pass into the worst darkness, and the greatest weapon of the dark has always been our own doubts. And I… since we set ourselves upon this course, I have doubted. I have doubted myself.” She glowered angrily at Nth, as though this were his fault. “Every consecrated priest may ask to stand once in the presence of the Potentate and seek his blessing. I need not sully his holy office with the details of our plan.”

Dion had always been something supernatural to Nth’s senses, a terrible blazing threat just in her mere being. Now, for just a moment, she seemed merely human, a woman worn down by the tasks forced upon her. For a few heartbeats he almost did not hate and fear her, or not as much.

“Well, then,” Harathes decided, “we’ll go there. Cyrene and I will accompany you to the halls of the Potentate. Perhaps he will bless us as well.”

Cyrene’s expression suggested that she was less than keen on this development, but she said nothing.

“As shall I,” Penthos declared. Nth found he could predict the awkward pause that followed.

“It might be best if you did not,” Dion said carefully. “Magicians of power are not much loved, among the priesthood of Armes.” Seeing his expression, she frowned. “You must know, surely… it is just that many of my brethren are wary of such strength when it is not given over entirely to the Light…”

“Is doing your bidding and being your follower not enough?” demanded Penthos, strongly enough that he drew frowning glances from the others.

“Please, Penthos. I don’t doubt your dedication, but… I will need you to keep your creature under tight control. And you will need to stay in the…” She mumbled quickly over something.

“In the what?” the magician asked suspiciously.