Again the halted answer, and it came to Lief that she didn’t know, exactly, and that she had not anticipated being uncertain about her own motives. Presumably she had thought the answer—the one in her head, rather than whatever guff she gave to him—would have been a flat “yes.”

“If the creature does its part, and takes us to Darvezian so we can end his evil, then I don’t care what happens to it after,” she stated. Even that was said with reluctance, but Lief guessed it counted as a major volte-face.

“Fine, good. I’m still going in and you’re going back, and I don’t care how Harathes has pissed you off.” Although I can guess. “Because I’m better at breaking into people’s houses than you are.”

Something of her anger had drained from her, through the crack she had found when she looked for her certainty. “Fine,” she snapped. “If you get yourself killed I am going to laugh.”

“How very Light of you.”

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Never have and don’t intend to start now.”

After Cyrene had run off to the High Temple, Lief studied the building before him. It was, like most of Armesion’s housing, a great box of heavy stone squeezed between its neighbors. Normally there would be several families in such a place, but right now Lief was willing to bet it contained just a single cult. How many of the Brotherhood of the Dawn were there? No way of knowing. If Abnasio was a genuine prelate, that placed him with a decent rank in the church, hence access to a fair flock of followers. On the other hand he might just be a heretical loon with a handful of nutters and an exaggerated idea of his own importance. And who had Gamograth been, for that matter, and what were the terms of his prophecy?

All this went through Lief’s head as he scaled a building three away from the Brotherhood’s hideout. The walls of Armesion were smooth and short on handholds, but he had been a second-story man for long enough that he barely felt challenged.

Once up, he trotted lightly across the roofs until he was over his target. He was also wondering how much time he had. If Abnasio had just cut Enth’s throat the moment they got indoors then he was absolutely too late, but he didn’t reckon it would be like that. Religion, prophecy, and secret brotherhoods all said ritual to him. They had been waiting a long time for this foretold moment, surely they would want to do it properly.