Page 252 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Loth embraced his sister. “How were our parents?” he asked.

Margret sighed. “Papa is fading. Mama is pleased that I am to marry Lord Morwe. You must go to them as soon as you are able.”

“Did you find Ascalon?”

“Aye,” she said, but with no joy. “Loth, do you remember that coney-hole I went down as a child?”

He thought back. “Not that daft game we played as children. In the haithwood,” he said. “What of it?”

She took him by the arm. “Come, brother. I will let Ead tell you the unhappy tale.”

When they were all back in the Council Chamber, and the doors had shut behind them, Sabran turned to Ead. Margret removed her feathered hat and sat at the table.

“You brought an unexpected gift.” Sabran placed her hands on the back of her chair. “Do you also have the True Sword?”

“We found it,” Ead said. “It seems the Beck family has guarded it in secret for many centuries, the knowledge passed from heir to heir.”

“That’s absurd,” Loth said. “Papa would never have kept it from his queens.”

“He was guarding it for when they needed it most, Loth. He would have told you about it before you inherited the estate.”

Loth was thunderstricken. Removing her cloak, Ead took a seat.

“We found Ascalon in a coney-hole in the haithwood,” she said. “Kalyba appeared. She had followed me from Lasia.”

“The Lady of the Woods,” Sabran said.

“Yes. She took the sword from us.”

Sabran clenched her jaw. Loth watched his sister and Ead. There was something odd about their expressions.

They were keeping something back.

“I suppose sending mercenaries after a shape-shifter would be an exercise in futility.” Sabran sank into the chair. “If Ascalon is lost to us, and there is no guarantee that we will find the second jewel, then we must . . . prepare to defend ourselves. A second Grief of Ages will begin the instant the Nameless One rises. I will invoke the holy call to arms, so King Raunus and High Princess Ermuna will be ready to fight.”

Her tone was even, but her eyes were haunted. She had more time to prepare than Glorian Shieldheart, who was sixteen and in bed with a fever when the first Grief of Ages began, but it might only be weeks. Or days.

Or hours.

“You will need more than Virtudom to be ready, Sabran,” Ead said. “You will need Lasia. You will need the Ersyr. You will need everyone in this world who can lift a sword.”

“Other sovereigns will not treat with Virtudom.”

“Then you must make a gesture of the love and respect you have for them,” Ead said, “by withdrawing the long-standing proclamation that all other religions are heresies. Changing the law to allow those with different values to live at peace in your realms.”

“It is a thousand-year tradition,” Sabran said curtly. “The Saint himself wrote that all other faiths were false.”

“Just because something has always been done does not mean that itoughtto be done.”

“I agree.” Loth had spoken before he knew it. The three women looked at him, Margret with raised eyebrows. “I think it would help,” he conceded, even as his faith groaned in protest. “During my . . .adventure, I learned what it was to be a heretic. It felt as though my very existence were under assault. If Inys can be the first to cease using the word, I think it would have done this world a very fine service.”

After a moment, Sabran nodded.

“I will put this to the Virtues Council,” she said, “but even if the Southern rulers join us, I cannot see that it will do us much good. Yscalin has the largest standing army in the world, and that will be turned against us. Humankind has not the strength to resist the fire now.”

“Then humankind will need help,” Ead said.

Loth shook his head, lost.

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