“Then I will speak in your behalf,” Iome said. “You may have injured House Sylvarresta, but you also have loved it, and you have served the people of Heredon.”

Iome sighed, “Yet justice demands a penalty. In ancient times, I am told, an act such as yours could be forgiven, should the offending knight complete an ‘Act Penitent.’ ”

Iome found it hard to breathe, found it hard to speak these next words, though the idea had been given her by Binnesman, and it had seemed adequate at the time. Now she wondered if it was too much. An act of penitence should be something a man could hope to accomplish, a great deed that would try his soul and let him grow. Not a deed that would destroy a man.

She feared her sentence would break Borenson. “I sentence you to go south, beyond the lands of Inkarra. I bid you find Daylan Hammer, the Sum of All Men, so that we can learn how best to defeat Raj Ahten.” An astonished gasp issued from the crowd of bystanders, followed quickly by whispers.

Borenson gave a little cough in surprise, looked up to Iome, then to Gaborn, who stood at her side.

“How? When? I mean—I am under oath to House Orden.”

“Then I release you from all oaths, Sir Borenson,” Gaborn said, “until your Act Penitent is complete. You shall become a Knight Equitable, answerable only to yourself, if you wish.”

“If I wish?” He seemed to consider. He would have to travel through enemy countries, facing countless dangers, in some vain hope of finding a legend. It was a deed that might take a man a lifetime. Or more. Time, for a man with endowments of metabolism, could pass so swiftly.

Borenson glanced over his shoulder at Myrrima. If he accepted Iome’s punishment, he’d have to leave her behind. He might never see her again. Myrrima’s face was pale, etched with fear. As a signal to him, she nodded, barely.

“I accept your judgment,” Borenson answered uncertainly. He got off his knees.

He no longer wore the livery of House Orden, and therefore had no need to strip himself of it. But he took his shield, cut the bindings behind the wood, so that the leather covering came away, with its painted image of the green knight. Beneath the leather covering, the shield was only blank steel riveted to a frame of wood.

“When will you leave?” Gaborn asked, clapping Borenson on the back.

Borenson shrugged, glanced at Myrrima. “Two weeks, four at the most. Before the mountains fill with snow.”

After he has had time to wed, Iome realized.

She saw the calculating gaze that Gaborn gave, knew he wanted to go with Borenson.

But Gaborn’s duties would hold him here in the North.