Page 94 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Will Fýredel see through me?” Loth asked.

“No. You will have the usual kind of plague,” she said. “I have tested the theory.”

He elected not to ask how. “Surely there are others in the palace who are loyal to the Saint,” he said. “Why not send one of your own servants?”

“I trust only Priessa, and her disappearance would raise alarm. I would go myself, but I cannot leave my people without a sane Vetalda. Even if I am powerless to save them, I must stay and do what I can to undermine Fýredel.”

He had misjudged the Donmata Marosa. She was a true woman of Virtudom, imprisoned in the shell of a home she must once have loved.

“It is too late for me, my lord,” she said, “but not for Virtudom. What has happened here in Yscalin must not be allowed to happen elsewhere.”

Loth looked away from those fire-opal eyes, to the patron brooch on his doublet. Two hands joined in affinity. The self-same twine of fingers that graced a love-knot ring.

If the Knight of Fellowship were here, Loth knew what she would do.

“If you consent,” the Donmata said, “I will take you back to the Flesh King, and you will lay your hands on him. Then I will show you the way out of Yscalin.” She rose. “If you refuse, I advise you to prepare yourself for a long life in Cárscaro, Lord Arteloth Beck.”

20

East

While the other sea guardians celebrated the end of the trials in the banquet hall, Tané lay exhausted in her quarters. She had not emerged since her fight with Turosa. A surgeon had cleaned and stitched her shoulder, but moving drained her, and the throb was ceaseless.

Tomorrow, she would find out if she was to ride.

She gnawed the nail on her little finger until she tasted blood. If only for something less painful to do with her hands, she found her copy ofRecollections of the Great Sorrow. The book had been a gift from one of her teachers for her fifteenth birthday. It had been some time since she had opened it, but its illustrations would distract her.

Close to the twelfth hour, when the song of the tree crickets was swelling outside, she was still awake, reading.

One image portrayed a Seiikinese woman with the red sickness. Her hands and eyes were crimson. On another page were the fire-breathers. Their bat wings had frightened Tané when she was fifteen, and they still gave her a chill. The next image showed the people of Cape Hisan standing on the coast, watching a great battle. Dragons twisted and thrashed among the waves. Their jaws snapped at the demons as they rained fire upon Seiiki.

The final image showed the comet that had come on the last night of the Great Sorrow—Kwiriki’s Lantern—weeping meteors into the sea. The winged demons fled from it, while the dragons of Seikii rose from the waves, painted in coin-bright silvers and blues.

A knock interrupted her reflections. Tané shifted painfully to her feet. When she slid open the door, she found Onren, clad in a dark green robe, hair bedecked with salt flowers. She was holding a tray.

“I brought supper,” she said.

Tané stood aside. “Come in.”

She returned to her bedding. Her candles had burned low, stretching every shadow. Onren set the tray down, revealing a small feast. Tender cuts of sea bream, bean curd rolled in roe, and salt-pickled kelp in a fragrant broth, as well as a jar of spiced wine and a cup.

“The honored Sea General let us taste his famous sea-aged wine,” Onren said with a brief smile. “I would have saved you some, but it ran out almost as quickly as it arrived. This is a touch less special”—she poured from the jar—“but it might dampen your pain.”

“Thank you,” Tané said. “It was kind of you to think of me, but I never had a taste for wine. You have it.”

“The trials are over, Tané. You can let go. But . . . I suppose I could use it.” Onren knelt on the mats. “We missed you at the banquet hall.”

“I was tired.”

“I thought you might say that. Not to insult you, but you look as if you haven’t slept in years. And you’ve earned a rest.” She picked up the cup. “You did well against Turosa. Perhaps the bastard’s finally realized that he is not so high above the peasants he despises.”

“We are not peasants now.” Tané studied her. “You look worried.”

“I think I lost the chance to ride today. Kanperu fights as well as he—” She sipped the wine. “Well.”

So she had fought Kanperu. Tané had been taken to the surgeon before she could see the other trials.

“You excelled on all the other days,” Tané reminded her. “The honored Sea General will judge us fairly.”

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