next.”
“And you don’t know what drove him to it?” said Caina.
“No,” said Nasser. “He told no one. Kharnaces told you the Apotheosis is about destroying the old humanity and replacing it with a new, superior one, at least one that he considers superior. Maybe it has been his goal for so long that he himself has forgotten why he started upon his path.”
“And you?” said Caina. “You’ve been working as long as he has. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” said Nasser. “My goal is far simpler. To stop Callatas, to keep him from destroying any more nations the way he has destroyed Iramis.”
“It’s a good goal,” said Caina.
“One that drives you as well, I think,” said Nasser.
Caina shrugged. “My homeland hasn’t been destroyed.”
“But your home was, was it not?” said Nasser. “When you were a child.”
Caina said nothing for a moment, her eyes sweeping the hills.
“Yes,” said Caina.
“By a sorcerer of some kind, unless I miss my guess,” said Nasser. “You acquired that sensitivity to sorcery from somewhere.”
Caina sighed. “You’ve had nearly a year and a half to observe me. I suppose it was inevitable you would figure out more about me than I might wish.”
“Now you are a valikarion,” said Nasser, “and more attuned to sorcery than ever.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” said Caina, the words coming out sharper than intended.
“It must be a challenge to adjust to it,” said Nasser.
“It is,” said Caina.
“Not for quite the reason you might think,” said Nasser. “You truly hate sorcery, do you not?”
“I did,” said Caina. “I hated it so much it was like a fire in my blood. Ten years ago if you had asked me to work with someone like Anaxander, I might have killed him out of hand. I would have had trouble trusting Annarah.” She rubbed her jaw for a moment, remembering the feel of the ghostsilver sword plunging through her chest. “Now, though…”
“Now the only reason you are still alive,” said Nasser, “is because of sorcery.”
“Yes,” said Caina.
“And the vision of the valikarion means you are more sensitive to sorcery than ever,” said Nasser. “That must be difficult to accept.”
Caina nodded.
“Though I would be remiss if I did not point out,” said Nasser, “that your hatred of sorcery is sometimes rather selective.”
Caina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You seem quite fond of Lord Kylon,” said Nasser, “and you seemed fond of him even before the incident at Rumarah. Remarkable, given that he is a sorcerer.”
Caina opened her mouth, closed it, and tried to find the words. “He’s not mainly a sorcerer. He doesn’t consider it his profession. He uses it to augment his strength and speed in battle.”
“Nevertheless, he is still a sorcerer,” said Nasser. “It is something of an inconsistency, is it not?”
Something Theodosia had once said flashed through Caina’s thoughts.
“I’m a woman,” said Caina. “I’m allowed some inconsistencies.”
Nasser blinked, and then threw back his head and laughed. Both Laertes and Annarah looked back at them.
“I suppose you are at that,” said Nasser. “Truly, you do remind me of my daughter. A pity you never got a chance to meet her.”
“I was born a century and a half too late for that,” said Caina.
“Regrettably,” said Nasser. “You have a gift, Caina Amalas, for seeing that which is invisible to others. You saw the way to escape from the Maze and the Inferno.”
“I didn’t see Kalgri coming,” said Caina. Her hand twitched toward where the ghostsilver dagger should have waited at her belt.
“No one is infallible,” said Nasser. “Now you see a little more clearly, that is all.”
They rode in silence for a while. Caina looked to the west and saw three distant points of light. The valikon, and Morgant’s dagger and scimitar.
“They’re coming back,” said Caina. She still found it uncanny
“And you don’t know what drove him to it?” said Caina.
“No,” said Nasser. “He told no one. Kharnaces told you the Apotheosis is about destroying the old humanity and replacing it with a new, superior one, at least one that he considers superior. Maybe it has been his goal for so long that he himself has forgotten why he started upon his path.”
“And you?” said Caina. “You’ve been working as long as he has. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” said Nasser. “My goal is far simpler. To stop Callatas, to keep him from destroying any more nations the way he has destroyed Iramis.”
“It’s a good goal,” said Caina.
“One that drives you as well, I think,” said Nasser.
Caina shrugged. “My homeland hasn’t been destroyed.”
“But your home was, was it not?” said Nasser. “When you were a child.”
Caina said nothing for a moment, her eyes sweeping the hills.
“Yes,” said Caina.
“By a sorcerer of some kind, unless I miss my guess,” said Nasser. “You acquired that sensitivity to sorcery from somewhere.”
Caina sighed. “You’ve had nearly a year and a half to observe me. I suppose it was inevitable you would figure out more about me than I might wish.”
“Now you are a valikarion,” said Nasser, “and more attuned to sorcery than ever.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” said Caina, the words coming out sharper than intended.
“It must be a challenge to adjust to it,” said Nasser.
“It is,” said Caina.
“Not for quite the reason you might think,” said Nasser. “You truly hate sorcery, do you not?”
“I did,” said Caina. “I hated it so much it was like a fire in my blood. Ten years ago if you had asked me to work with someone like Anaxander, I might have killed him out of hand. I would have had trouble trusting Annarah.” She rubbed her jaw for a moment, remembering the feel of the ghostsilver sword plunging through her chest. “Now, though…”
“Now the only reason you are still alive,” said Nasser, “is because of sorcery.”
“Yes,” said Caina.
“And the vision of the valikarion means you are more sensitive to sorcery than ever,” said Nasser. “That must be difficult to accept.”
Caina nodded.
“Though I would be remiss if I did not point out,” said Nasser, “that your hatred of sorcery is sometimes rather selective.”
Caina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You seem quite fond of Lord Kylon,” said Nasser, “and you seemed fond of him even before the incident at Rumarah. Remarkable, given that he is a sorcerer.”
Caina opened her mouth, closed it, and tried to find the words. “He’s not mainly a sorcerer. He doesn’t consider it his profession. He uses it to augment his strength and speed in battle.”
“Nevertheless, he is still a sorcerer,” said Nasser. “It is something of an inconsistency, is it not?”
Something Theodosia had once said flashed through Caina’s thoughts.
“I’m a woman,” said Caina. “I’m allowed some inconsistencies.”
Nasser blinked, and then threw back his head and laughed. Both Laertes and Annarah looked back at them.
“I suppose you are at that,” said Nasser. “Truly, you do remind me of my daughter. A pity you never got a chance to meet her.”
“I was born a century and a half too late for that,” said Caina.
“Regrettably,” said Nasser. “You have a gift, Caina Amalas, for seeing that which is invisible to others. You saw the way to escape from the Maze and the Inferno.”
“I didn’t see Kalgri coming,” said Caina. Her hand twitched toward where the ghostsilver dagger should have waited at her belt.
“No one is infallible,” said Nasser. “Now you see a little more clearly, that is all.”
They rode in silence for a while. Caina looked to the west and saw three distant points of light. The valikon, and Morgant’s dagger and scimitar.
“They’re coming back,” said Caina. She still found it uncanny
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