Alessandra, seemingly against her will, smiled with Ann.

Ann watched the spoon, with a chunk of sausage, linger in the bowl. "Prelate, did you fully expect the Sisters of the Light would believe you that magic had failed and that they would willingly try to escape with you?"

Ann looked up into Alessandra's eyes. "Not fully, no. Although I hoped they would trust my word, having always known me as a woman who values truth, I knew the possibility existed, so great was their fear, that-whether they believed me or not-they would refuse to leave.

"Slaves, slaves to anything or anyone, despite how much they abhor it, will often cling to that slavery out of fear the alternative would be insufferable. Look at a drunk, a slave to liquor, who thinks us cruel for trying to get him to abandon his slavery."

"And what were you planning in the event the Sisters of the Light refused to abandon their slavery?"

"Jagang uses them, uses their magic, the same as he uses yours. When the chimes are banished magic will return and the Sisters will have their power back. Many people will die at their hands, no matter how unwilling are those hands. If they refused to cast off their slavery and leave with me, they were to be killed."

Sister Alessandra lifted an eyebrow. "My, my, Prelate. We are not so different after all. That would have been the reasoning of a Sister of the Dark as well."

"Just common sense. The lives of a lot of people are at risk." Ann was famished, and eyed with longing the spoon holding the sausage as it hovered above the nearly full bowl.

"So, why were you caught, then?"

Ann signed. "Because I didn't think they would lie to me, not about something so important. Though it would be no reason to execute them, it will make the onerous but necessary task a little easier."

Alessandra finally fed Ann the spoonful of sausage. This time, Ann made herself chew it slowly so as to enjoy its flavor.

"You could still escape with me, Alessandra," Ann said in a quiet tone after she had finally swallowed.

Alessandra picked something from the bowl and cast it aside. She stirred the soup again.

"I told you before, that would not be possible."

"Why? Because Jagang told you so? Told you he is still in your mind?"

'That's one reason."

"Alessandra, Jagang promised you that if you took care of me, he wouldn't send you out to the tents to whore for his men. You told me that was what he said."

The woman paused with the spoon, her eyes brimming with tears. "We belong to His Excellency." With her other hand, she touched the gold ring through her bottom lipthe mark of Jagang's slaves. "He can do with us as he wishes."

"Alessandra, he lied to you. He said he wouldn't do that if you took care of me. He lied. You can't trust a liar. Not with your future or your life. That was my mistake, but I wouldn't give a liar a second chance at harming me. If he lied about that much of it, how much else is he lying about?"

"What do you mean?"

"About how you can never escape because he is still in your mind. He is not, Alessandra. Just as he can't get into my mind, he can't get into yours for now. Once the chimes are banished, yes, but not now.

"If you swear loyalty to Richard, then you will be protected even after the chimes are banished. You can get away, Alessandra. We could do our grisly duty with the Sisters who lied and chose to stay with another liar, and then escape."

Sister Alessandra's voice was as emotionless as her face. "Prelate, you forget, I am a Sister of the Dark, sworn to the Keeper."

"In return for what, Alessandra? What has the Keeper of the underworld offered you? What has he offered that could be better than eternity in the Light?"

"Immortality."

Ann sat watching the woman's unflinching gaze. Outside, men, some of whom had abused this helpless five-hundred-year-old Sister of the Dark, laughed and carried on their nightly amusements. Smells, both fair and foul, drifted in and out of the tent: sizzling garlic, dung, roasting meat, burning fur, the sweet smell of a birch log in a nearby fire, stale sweat.

Ann, too, did not flinch from the gaze.

"Alessandra, the Keeper is lying to you."

Emotion returned to the Sister's eyes.

She stood and poured the nearly full bowl of soup on the ground outside the tent.

Sister Alessandra, one foot outside, one inside, turned back.

"You can starve for all I care, old woman. I would rather go back to the tents than listen to your blasphemy."

In her forlorn solitary silence, in her pain of body and soul, Ann prayed to the Creator, asking that He give Sister Alessandra a chance to return to the Light. She prayed, too, for the Sisters of the Light, as lost now as were the Sisters of the Dark.

From her place sitting chained in the dark and lonely tent, it seemed the world had gone mad.

"Dear Creator, what have you wrought?" Ann wept. "Is it all lies, too?"

CHAPTER 58

Dalton rushed up to the head table and smiled at Teresa. She looked lonely and forlorn. She did look relieved to see him, though, even though he was late. He saw too little of her lately. There was no helping it. She understood.

Dalton kissed her cheek before taking his seat.

The Minister only acknowledged him with a brief glance. He was busy sharing a lusty look with a woman at a table to the right of the dining hall. It looked as if she could be making suggestive gestures with a piece of rolled beef. The Minister was smiling.

Rather than being repelled by Bertrand's sexual indulgences, many more women were actually attracted to him because of it, even if they had no intention of acting on that attraction. It seemed to be a quirk of the female mind that some women were irresistibly drawn to tangible evidence of sexual virility, regardless of its impropriety. It was a visceral whiff of danger, something tantalizing but forbidden. The more some men behaved the rogue, the heavier many women panted.

"I hope you've not been too bored," Dalton whispered to Teresa, pausing momentarily to appreciate the glow of her faithful affection.

Other than his brief smile to Teresa, he was doing his best to maintain his customary placid face with the fruition of all his work close at hand. He took a long drink of wine, not tasting it, but impatient for its effects to settle in.

"I've missed you, that's all. Bertrand has been telling jokes." Teresa blushed. "But I can't repeat them. Not here, anyway." Her smile, her mischievous smile, stole onto her face. "Maybe when we get home, I'll tell you."

He mimed a smiled, his mind already racing forward to weighty matters. "If I get in early enough. I have to get a new batch of messages out yet tonight. Something"-he forced himself to stop drumming his fingers on the table- "something important, momentous, has happened."

Tantalized, Teresa leaned forward. "What?"

"Your hair is growing out well, Tess." It was as long as her present station allowed it. He couldn't keep himself from hinting. "But I do believe it may have considerably longer to grow."

"Dalton…" Her eyes were widening as she considered what he could possibly mean, but confusion visited her face, too, for she was unable to imagine how the fulfillment of his long-held ambition was possible, given present circumstances. "Dalton, has this anything to do with… with what you have always told me…"

His sober expression took the rest of her words. "I'm sorry, darling, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I may be reading too much into it, anyway. Be patient, you will hear in a few minutes. Best if news such as this come from the Minister."

Lady Chanboor glanced briefly to the woman with the rolled meat. The woman, as if doing nothing more than minding her table companions, pulled her curls across her face as she returned her gaze to them. Hildemara gave Bertrand a brief, private, murderous glare before leaning past him toward Dalton.