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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Your friend’s face ht prove the mask

the daub found in subtle shift

to alter the once fae

Or the child who formed unseen

in private darkness as you whiled oblivious

to reveal cruel shock as a stone

through a temple’s pane

To these there is no armour on the soul

And upon the mask is writ the bold word,

echoed in the child’s eyes,

a sudden stranger to all you have known

Such is betrayal

Death Vigil of Sorulan

Minir Othal

Captain Paran reined in his horse near the smoke-blackened rubble of the East Watch redoubt He twisted in his saddle for a last look at Capustan’s battered walls Jelarkan’s Palace reared tall and dark against the bright blue sky Streaks of black paint etched the tower like cracks, a sy for its lost prince The next rain would see that paint washed away, leaving no sign That structure, he had heard, never wore the eburners were filing out through the East Gate

First in, last out They’re always eant Antsy was in the lead, with Corporal Picker a step behind The two looked to be arguing, which was nothing new Behind them, the soldiers of the other seven squads had lost all cohesion; the company marched in no particular order The captain wondered at that He’d eants and corporals, of course He knew the naeburner and knew their faces as well None the less, there was soely ephemeral about them His eyes narrowed as he watched theures in a sun-bleached, threadbare tapestry The march of armies, he reflected, was timeless