“My agent will hand over one third of the debt,” Ren said. “You will deliver the boy to the village mill. Once I see him there, another of my agents will turn over the next third and the silver. When I am certain of… our safety, you will receive the next third. You have my word.”

Ren smiled serenely as she agreed, ring-to-chest. This was convenient, as his shadow power was waning and the illusion fading. He was so close now to making amends. Soon the boy would be in a good house, in a house that needed him more than anything. The goddess dawn was four days away. Glancing at the statue, he promised he’d find a secluded place, strip down, and bear her judgment. He’d bathe in her light and open his putrid little heart to her purging power.

Then he’d leave Vaidolin forever.

He rose and straightened. “May the goddess… and the Voice,” he nodded toward the vase of daisies. “May they favor this house.”

Another little reminder of their lack of devotion couldn’t hurt. He bowed and left, shadows quivering. Only a mile away did he go behind a tree and, shaking, crumple to the ground.

Then he laughed.

“I will save them,” he said. “I will save them all.”

He patted the envelope with the silver-white hair he’d found in the Rilanik. He still had the report to write. That would be his parting gift to his ungrateful master.

“Yes, indeed. I’ll save them all.”

47

The arched trellis was heavy with clusters of nut berries. Many had already fallen, creating a walnut-brown blanket at their feet. Stars peeked through the bunches and browning leaves. Summer’s Lion had given way to the autumn’s Owl.

Balniss listened intently as Taul explained all that had happened since they’d selected the devices in the vault.

Taul was excited, if not nervous about what could happen. If this backfired, Hosmyr would crush his house at the next audience. His mind whirled with possibilities. Vakayne might take them in, if only for the orchard. Such a shift would shake Vaidolin to its roots. Never had a significant orchard, grove, or vineyard changed allegiance.

“Do you see the import, brother?” Taul asked after a long silence. “The Darks, the high matron, Ilor’Hosmyr… and the children. Taking hair? Why? To verify the goddess-light? I saw it all, I tell you. He told me all!”

Balniss paced, tapping at the berries and watching them fall.

“Relax, brother,” he said. “Take your ease. I’m not sure you saw all that. The evidence is weak. Mostly your word against… against a high consort, and a high matron, if it truly goes that far up. You know some folk think Mornae hair has magical qualities. Their bones crushed into powder enlivens…” He paused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they are trading in such things. It makes perfect sense and costs them nothing—the hair at least—and there are buyers from far and wide at the border camps for anything. Certainly, anything we make.”

“But he told me himself what they do,” Taul said. “He was relieved to share it.”

“Because of the acolyte. He’s imagining all kinds of offenses now. The burden of such a crime… and can you imagine the repercussions? Zauhune makes war on Roturra in the goddess-court for a crime—not even a murder—committed over two cycles ago. If Hosmyr ordered the death of this acolyte…”

“I think it was an accident.”

Balniss shook his head and sighed. “A pitiful loss. So fine a young woman. So promising. The last thing we need as a people is the loss of capable priestesses.”

They exchanged pained looks.

“Capable?” Taul asked. “You mean true?”

It was something men whispered about, though Taul had no reason to doubt the truth of Ryldia’s priesthood. The consort binding was real; he knew it absolutely. The invisible web binding house members to herself also seemed stronger since they’d moved to the valley. Whether she could summon the Dark or call down blue fire, he couldn’t say. With her delicate form and manner, it was unimaginable.

“And why not?” Balniss asked. “I am certain the goddess lies dormant in many, as with us. We could be sorcerers, you and I.”

Taul raised his brows.

“I didn’t say it would be easy, brother,” Balniss said. Was he contemplating advancing in the diviner’s guild? “The practice could cost us our lives. Much as it does that young knight fighting in the court.”

“Either way,” Taul said, undeterred by his brother’s caution. “I can meet this man and receive a child, outside the customs and accords, outside the law.”

Balniss shrugged. “What law? The accords are just agreements. A Mornae has no law but the law of getting what power you can. House above all, remember?”

“You’ve always respected the accords, laws, rules—whatever you want to call them.”

“I respect them. I see their importance. But you implied you could not act outside them, and I merely point out that you can. As Mornae, nothing binds you ultimately except the law of thriving.”

“So that is a law.”

“It is a law of nature. Our nature. To strive, to fall, to fail, to thrive,” he said, quoting the motto engraved over the gates of Isilayne.

“To die as well. Isn’t that implied?”

“And be reborn again. However you choose to see it, there is a hierarchy of natural laws, laws which govern the Mornae in the same way nature hems in the crow and beetle and yak. Yet our laws are different because unlike the yak, we can see when we cross the barriers, when we press the edge of our nature. And lo, we become something more.”

Taul shook his head. “So, I can take the child without guilt, without concern for the goddess’s wrath?”

“Who said anything about guilt? As for the goddess’s wrath.” He scoffed and batted away the thought with a lazy hand. “What are your highest obligations? Work back from those. Fulfill those, and everything else will fall into place.”

“My consort,” Taul said softly.

Balniss smiled. “It is the deepest part of you now. It is one part of your path of perfection.”

“And the others?”

Balniss stared at him. “For you? The orchard.”

“Not the spear?”

Balniss shook his head. “Not every path can be equally strong. There is a hierarchy.”

“I should make the trade?”

“If he’s already done the deed, the boy is houseless now. You can’t allow him to remain in that state. That would be another injustice. What are you paying?”

Taul shook his head. “Nothing at all. He says he must make amends. How is it amends to take someone else’s child?”

Balniss glanced upward, hands open to the sky. “The goddess knows.”

Taul chuckled nervously and only laughed when Balniss did. It was a common Mornae saying when one wanted to act against custom or tradition.

“Do what you must, brother,” Balniss said with a chuckle. “Strive mightily! The goddess favors those who do.” He tapped a bunch of berries and watched the ripe ones fall.

When the amusement died down, Taul asked, “What do you make of the Naukvyrae?” He didn’t lower his face at the mention of the secret society. He mentioned it without fear, as if the Naukvyrae were a children’s story and meant nothing.

Balniss frowned. “The Naukvyrae? In Hosmyr territory.”