Enth squirmed and glanced toward Cyrene.

“Her? Oh, don’t mind her. I guess I should let Visler turn her into sausages the hard way. He’s due a pat on the head for coming through for me, however inadvertently.”

“No…” Enth’s body twisted unnaturally, as though trying to break away from Cyrene but failing.

“Oh, I see.” Feyn grinned unpleasantly. “Yeah, all those compulsions. Hard to know what you’re allowed to do, with those bars fencing you in. Don’t want to get bit by them, eh? I imagine that would hurt.” His nasty smile widened. “Let you into a secret, though. I’d take them off you, if I could, but it looks as though they’re top-notch strong—not neat or well laid, but strong. But you know what? I do have a little trick up my sleeve, just a tiny little loophole.”

He reached into a pouch and came out with a misshapen yellow candle stub that he slapped down on the table. “Had this for a while, just on the off chance,” he explained. “A little spell for all those souls who want to be free to break oaths and commit evil deeds no matter what’s weighing ’em down.” There was a spark that flashed between his fingers and the candle was lit. “Now, I reckon there’s a couple minutes of the good stuff left in that. And while that’s going, you know what? Sky’s the limit, friend. Whatever they bound you with, it’s off your mind for just as long as that fire’s going. And then when it’s out, well, if she’s not here to be your moral compass, then what’s keeping you from having a fine old time with me, eh?”

Feyn had a dagger out and threw it point first into the table before Enth.

“Go on, friend. Be free,” he encouraged.

Enth’s soulless black eyes found Cyrene.

He reached out and grasped the hilt, levering the blade out, staring at her.

7: Border Crossings

“I HAVE DELIBERATED,” the Potentate stated solemnly, “on what to do with you and your followers, Dion.”

“I am prepared to meet whatever punishment or penance is decreed,” she replied. She knelt before him in his chambers, wearing nothing but a plain robe: a priestess stripped of all office.

“And your followers?”

“If I ask them to, but I have—”

“Pleaded for clemency, taken the burden upon yourself, yes, I know.” The Potentate sighed. “I’ve made my decision. I will not be argued with.”

That snapped her head up, shocked. “I would never—”

“Silence. You will leave Armesion. You will recover the balance of your followers. You will go to confront Darvezian and, if possible, you will destroy him. That is all.”

“But this is what we were—”

“That is my decision.”

“But that is no punishment!” Dion exclaimed.