“. . . in class,” Mortirmir admitted.

“Failure is not all that painful,” Gabriel said. “And I have discovered I learn nothing unless I admit that I have failed. I have met swordsmen who delude themselves into believing themselves great; I have met housewives who delude themselves into believing that their houses are clean and their cooking good.”

“I could bring him back,” Morgon said. “I have the power. You have no idea how much power I have, Gabriel.”

Gabriel chose not to say, I just watched you murder two thousand sentient beings.

Instead, he shrugged. “I know you have great power,” he said.

“You could not stop me,” Mortirmir said.

“I am stopping you right now,” Gabriel said. He rose to his feet, and the gold fell off him like rain. “I am not commanding an army right now. Michael is doing that. I am sitting with you. Can I tell you something, Morgon? I have about two days. Then I’m dead. I almost died today. In fact, at the rate I’m turning to gold, I might not even last until we pass the last gate. You may have to face Ash without me, Morgon. And I carry the weight of responsibility. Every death. Every fight, every wrong decision, every battlefield error, every horse dead of poison grass. I even get to enjoy the adulation of the people I lead to die. If ever there was a poison pill . . . a black power, it is that. Listen to me, Morgon. Let Harald go. Let them all go. Let it all go. Admit your failure . . .”

“I did it for you!” Mortirmir said.

Gabriel shook his head. “Yes, and no. I don’t know if we’d have held the hilltop without you. But by God, Morgon Mortirmir, we will not defeat Ash without you, and I could lose you right here. And you did it, at least in part, because you wanted to do it. To see how powerful you really are.”

“I am like a god,” Mortirmir said.

“Not even a little bit,” Gabriel said. He reached down and plucked the grim black skull from Mortirmir’s hands.

Mortirmir didn’t move.

“May I?” Gabriel asked.

Mortirmir was weeping. “I want to do it,” he said.

“Good,” Gabriel said.

He stood silently while Mortirmir released the soul.

He awoke to the feeling of Blanche’s shoulder against his chest. His pavilion was dark. He listened to her breathe for a long time.

He rose in darkness, when Master Nicodemus woke him. Blanche was already awake and gone, and Hamwise appeared and began to dress him. He glowed like a lantern, and his new page made no comment.

“Think what we’re going to save in candle wax,” the emperor said.

His page made no comment.

Blanche came in. She smiled when she saw him; he treasured that.