"I suppose that's the most gracious promise I can hope for." Tomanāk sighed so mournfully that, once again, the envoys surprised themselves with a ripple of laughter. The god smiled at them, then glanced at Kaeritha and beckoned her forward.

"Did you think I would forget to greet you , Kerry?" he asked teasingly.

"No." She smiled. "I just assumed you needed to concentrate on Bahzell first. I've noticed that getting ideas through to him requires a certain amount of effort."

"Even from a god," Tomanāk agreed. "Ask him someday to tell you about how long I had to pester him before he even realized who was trying to get his attention."

"I will," she promised.

"Good. For now, though, and in answer to the question in your mind, yes. You're doing exactly what you ought to be doing."

"I am?" She blinked. "Well, that's reassuring. Now if I only knew what I'm doing, everything would be perfect."

"Don't worry. It will come to you. And now—" the god turned to where the members of the newest chapter of his Order knelt "—there's only one more detail to be dealt with. Come here, Vaijon."

The golden haired knight-probationer jerked as if somehow had just touched a particularly sensitive portion of his anatomy with a well-heated poker. His head flew up, his expression one of mingled delight and fear, and he rose. He walked across the floor through a hush that was once more total to stand between Bahzell and Kaeritha, gazing up at his deity's face, and Tomanāk smiled.

"I have something of yours," he told him. Vaijon's eyebrows rose in surprise, and then the god reached out a hand and plucked a sword out of the air as casually as a mortal might have reached into a pocket. He held it up, turning it so that the gems set into its hilt and guard glittered, and astonished recognition flickered in Vaijon's eyes.

"I believe you left this in a demon," Tomanāk said.

"I—" Vaijon looked up at him, then nodded. "I suppose I did," he said.

"A pretty toy," Tomanāk observed, "but the steel is sound enough under all the fancywork. One simply has to look close enough to see it, wouldn't you say, Vaijon?" The young man nodded slowly, never looking away from the god's face. Every person in the hall knew the words meant far more than they seemed to, but only Bahzell and Vaijon knew what that something more was.

"Yes," Tomanāk went on judiciously, "I think you understand that now. Just as you understand that a blade that looks a bit rough and unpolished—" he flicked a grin at Bahzell "—can bite deeper and truer than the most beautiful one ever forged. And just as you've learned to understand that—" he returned his eyes to Vaijon "—I've tested the steel in you, Vaijon of Almerhas. It took a while to see past the gems and decoration, but there's a fine blade underneath all that gaudiness... one I would be pleased to call my own."

He reached down and handed Vaijon's sword not to him, but to Kaeritha. Vaijon's eyes flickered in confusion for a moment, but then Tomanāk reached back over his shoulder to draw his own sword and extend the hilt to him.

"Will you swear Sword Oath to me as my champion, Vaijon?" he asked, and Vaijon sucked in deeply. His eyes clung to that plain, wire-bound hilt, and he started to shake his head—not in rejection, but with a profound sense of his unworthiness. But a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned his head to see Bahzell's smile.

"It's not a thing as any man feels worthy of, lad," he said softly.

"No, it's not," Tomanāk confirmed, "and the more worthy of it he is, the less worthy he feels . But you are worthy, Vaijon. Will you serve me?"

"I will," Vaijon whispered, and laid his hand upon the hilt of his god's sword.

Blue light crackled about his fingers as he touched it, and prominences of the same light ran up his arm to dance and seethe about his head like a crown of fire. The same blue radiance danced above Bahzell and Kaeritha, flickering in a web of power that linked both champions to the champion to be and to their deity, and Tomanāk's deep voice echoed in the silence of Prince Bahnak's hall.

"Do you, Vaijon of Almerhas, swear fealty to me?"

"I do." Vaijon's voice had taken on an echo of the War God's, and there was no more doubt, no more hesitation in it.

"Will you honor and keep my Code? Will you bear true service to the Powers of Light, heeding the commands of your own heart and mind and striving always against the Dark as they require, even unto death?"

"I will."

"Do you swear by my Sword and your own to render compassion to those in need, justice to those you may be set to command, loyalty to those you choose to serve, and punishment to those who knowingly serve the Dark?"

"I do."

"Then I accept your oath, Vaijon of Almerhas, and bid you take up your blade once more. Bear it well in the cause to which you have been called."

There was a moment, like a pause in the breath of infinity—one Bahzell remembered well from a windy night in the Shipwood when he had sworn that oath—and then Tomanāk drew back his sword and Vaijon blinked like a man awaking from sleep. He drew a deep, lung-filling breath and smiled up at his god, and Kaeritha stepped up beside him and extended the sword Tomanāk had handed her. He took it from her and, as he touched it, Bahzell saw the same spark in him he had seen in Kaeritha from the first—the flicker of Tomanāk's reflected presence burning like some secret coal at the young man's heart. He reached out, embracing the War God's newest champion, and Tomanāk smiled down at them all.

"Remarkable," he said, drawing his champions' eyes back to him. He shook his head. "It isn't often one of my champions has the opportunity to swear Sword Oath with even one other champion present, and here I am with three. And the three of you," he told them, "are quite possibly the stubbornest trio of mortals I've come across in millennia. If you think you had a hard time with Vaijon, Bahzell, you should hunt up Dame Chaerwyn and let her tell you what she went through with Kerry!"

"I wasn't that bad, Milord!" Kaeritha protested. "Was I?"

"Worse," Tomanāk assured her. "Much worse. But the best ones usually are."

"Are they, now?" Bahzell asked.

"Of course there are, Bahzell," Tomanāk said. "That's why I feel confident I'll be finding lots of them among your folk in the future."

And he vanished.