For some while they discussed the crystal and the dragon book, until Salamander felt he knew everything Laz had learned about them—not that such amounted to a great deal. Laz, however, seemed pleased with their talk. When Salamander stood up to leave, Laz joined him and invited him to come back whenever he wanted.

“It’s a relief to find people who’ll talk openly of dweomer matters,” Laz told him.

“No doubt, after being surrounded by Alshandra’s believers.”

Laz laughed and agreed.

When Salamander left the camp, two of the men followed him, both pure Gel da’thae from the look of their long black hair, braided with charms, and the brightly colored tattoos on their milk-white skin. His heart pounded briefly in fear, but they bowed to him then knelt at his feet.

“Big sir,” one of them said in a language that was more or less Deverrian. “I speak little words, but we—” he paused to gesture at the other man”—now want leave Laz. Go with Drav. We ask, safe?”

“It is. The prince has taken Drav into his service.”

The man stared at him in desperation. Salamander tried again.

“Safe,” he said. “Come see Drav with me.”

At that they both smiled.

As they followed him back to the Westfolk tents, Salamander saw Grallezar and hailed her. She took these new recruits to Drav while Salamander sought out Dallandra to give her his report.

“Laz thinks the spirits of the book may be aware of his mind trying to reach them, but he couldn’t be sure,” Salamander finished up. “And they wouldn’t know if he were a friend or an enemy.”

“That’s very much too bad,” Dallandra said. “I keep wishing I’d seen the wretched thing myself.”

“Me, too. You know, it’s an odd thing about Laz. Is Rori truly sure he knew this soul as Alastyr?”

“Well, he’s told me so a couple of times now. Why?”

“He doesn’t seem as horrible as he should.” Salamander shrugged with an embarrassed laugh. “I suppose that’s what I mean.”

“You know, some people do learn from their lives. It’s one of the things that keeps my faith in the Light strong, actually, that some people really do see the evil they’ve done and do their best to redeem themselves. The opportunity’s offered to every soul in the Halls of Light.”

“Of course.”

“You sound doubtful.” Dallandra cocked her head to one side and considered him.

“In a way I suppose I am. I’ve never had grand memories of my past lives, you know. I assume I must have had some, but without actual memories, the assumption’s—well—bloodless.”

“You should talk less and meditate more.”

“Why am I not surprised you said that?”

When he grinned at her, she scowled at him, then softened and returned the smile. Still, he told himself, she’s right, you know—you should.

“Besides,” Dallandra continued, “Laz also had that miserable life without a shred of dweomer in it, where he was nothing but a renegade Deverry lordling, and I think he truly learned something from that, too.”