“That may turn out to be very lucky.” Alkoryn leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “How many Marked have we in the tunnels?”

“Including the Mender’s children Hernyn brought us, seven.”

“Delay no longer. See that they go now, before the day is out. Send also our own youngsters, any waiting for Schooling and any not ready for their badges. Let them go with the Marked as far as the Tourin Road, then to Nerysa Warhammer. The Marked to Pompano, unless Cullen would like to take this opportunity to return to his home, in which case he may want them to accompany him to Langeron. Who is scheduled for the task?”

“The sisters, Jenn IceSea and Jess Riverhorse.”

“Let them choose two others to help them and go with the group to Nerysa. If Cullen of Langeron decides to go, ask him to have word with me before he departs.” He nodded twice and looked up at Fanryn. “If there is nothing else pressing, I’d like a few minutes with Dhulyn if you would, my Brothers.”

Both Fanryn and Thionan straightened to their feet. “I’ll have some food and drink sent up,” Thionan said.

“Considering we may need a place to hide the Tarkin Tek-aKet and his family, it’s a very lucky thing indeed that the Racha man is here.” Alkoryn spoke half to himself. “No one would think to look for them in the Clouds.”

Dhulyn stayed at her perch by the window, consciously relaxing each muscle group as she waited for Alkoryn to turn his full attention to her. She could think of only one reason Alkoryn would have sent both Fanryn and Thionan away. He’s going to ask me to See, she thought. That’s the reason I’m not in the caves with the Tarkin.

“I must say, Dhulyn, my Brother, if the reaction of the Tarkin and his counselor is any indication, I am not at all surprised that you tell no one of your Mark.” Alkoryn sat up straight and laid his hands palm down on the map of Gotterang that still covered his table. “But I would fail in my duties as Senior Brother and Commander of this House if I did not ask you, despite what you and Parno have told me of your experience, is there no way you can look for a Vision that may be of help to us?”

Dhulyn looked at him for a long moment. He was asking her in the same way he would ask a swordsmith how many weapons were ready for use. No judgment, just a request for the kind of information that would help him plan his strategy. A tightness she had not been aware of loosened in her chest. Whatever she said now, he would take her at her word. She was still among Brothers. In Battle or in Death.

“It’s worse than Parno told you,” she said. “Worse than I knew myself. Only very recently I have learned that some of what I See is not the future at all, but the past. If I cannot even tell which is which, the Visions I do See are useless to us.”

The knock at the door was soft, almost as if the person outside wanted the room to be empty. Karlyn-Tan’s “Enter” was so automatic he did not even look up from his lists of work orders. A moment passed before he realized that someone had indeed come in, and that she was waiting for him to speak. He glanced at Semlin-Nor’s face and he sat back, lowering his pen to the tabletop. Born in the House, Semlin was the most unflappable of the House Stewards, and not even the fall of the Old House had given her that gray skin, that tremor in her clasped hands. Seeing her face, Karlyn had the feeling he was going to be sorry to have answered the knock. Maybe even that he’d got up at all today.

“Word has come from the Dome,” Semlin said, and cleared her throat. “The Tenebroso is on his way.”

“Sit down, Sem.” Karlyn shoved his paperwork to one side. There would be time to do it once Lok-iKol had come and gone. Both he and Semlin-Nor had received messages from the Dome in the twenty-four hours since Lok-iKol had taken the Carnelian Throne, asking for one thing or another that the new Tarkin had decided he wanted from his own House. A levy of men from Karlyn-Tan, a favorite chair from Semlin-Nor. There were only two things the Tenebroso could not send for, Karlyn thought, and they were both in this room.

Semlin had shaken her head and remained standing, her hands on the high back of the chair across from him. “Which of us do you suppose he wants?” Semlin’s voice was steady and true, but Karlyn-Tan had an idea from the whiteness of her knuckles on the chairback how much that steadiness cost her.

“I can think of no area in which you’ve failed the House,” he said. “And I shall say so, should I have the chance.”

“As will I for you,” Semlin said, nodding.

Karlyn looked at her carefully, but there was no insincerity in her face. “No.” Karlyn leaned back in his chair, tapping his lips with the fingers of his right hand. “I have reason to believe it will be me. Don’t try to shield me, you can’t know the cost.”

The woman across from him took her lower lip into her teeth, shot him a glance from under her brows before focusing once again on the papers which layered the top of his desk. Karlyn raised his eyebrows as awareness dawned.

“How long did you know?” he said, sitting forward again.

“The House knew, and told me.” The words tumbled from her mouth. “She’d been looking for the golden-haired one, the Lionsmane, for some time. As for the rest,” she spread her hands, “I keep the Keys, man, how could I not know when food was prepared, when rooms were cleaned and light taken to them? Heat? Bedding? As for the rest…” Semlin lowered her eyes, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I gave the Fallen House my solemn oath to make no mention of it, nor of her plans. The next I knew, she was Fallen, and the Mercenary Brothers were gone.”

“That going will be on my head. As well as the going of the Scholar, and the Lady Mar-eMar. As Keys is your function, so mine is Walls.”

The tightness in Semlin-Nor’s shoulders relaxed, but her face did not regain its usual color.

“You’ll see I’m right,” he said, getting to his feet, and taking his sword of office down from its bracket on the wall near the door. Might as well be formal, he thought, it may remind Lok-iKol of his obligations to me, as well as mine to him.

When he looked up from the silvered clasp of his sword belt, Semlin was already at the door. Her smile was a mere baring of teeth and her nod set her earrings swinging. There was little that his reassurances could do. She knew as much as he did about what had gone on in Lok’s rooms when he was just Kir. Maybe more.

They walked without speaking from Karlyn’s tower rooms to the main doors, silent even in those portions of the corridors where they knew they could not be overheard. Semlin-Nor came as far as she could with him, stopping in the outer courtyard, at the lowest steps of the House.

“The Caids bless you,” she whispered through barely moving lips as he stepped off onto the stones of the yard. “The Sleeping God keep you in his dreams.”

“And you.”

He could feel her eyes on his back as he crossed the outer courtyard to the gates to greet his House, the new Tarkin.

“Tell me again of the escape of the Mercenaries.”

It was as he’d suspected. It was only Karlyn-Tan that the Tenebroso had asked to accompany him to his workroom. Lok-iKol sat behind his worktable, staring at the sharp nib of a pen as he rolled it between thumb and fingers. For the first time in many years, he had not invited Karlyn-Tan to sit.

“With respect, my lord,” Karlyn said, “I remind you that they were not in my keeping, and that I know nothing of their leaving.” It was safe for him to say so, as he knew that the keys for Dhulyn Wolfshead’s shackles never left Lok-iKol’s own hands. “Mercenaries do not require assistance in these matters. It is known they cannot be held, if it is their own wish to be gone.”