‘You weren’t here, and I did not invite him in.’ Illyra’s dark eyes flashed at
him as she spoke. ‘And he’ll come back again if I don’t do these things, so hear
me out.’
‘No, just tell me what we must do to keep him away.’
Illyra dug her fingernails into the palm of one hand hidden in the folds of her
skirts.
‘We will have to – to stop the consecration of the cornerstone of the new temple
for the Rankan gods.’
‘”Gods”, Lyra, you would not meddle with the gods? Is this the meaning you found
in “death and sacrifice”?’
‘It is also the reason Lythande was here last night.’
‘But, Lyra …’
She shook her head, and he was quiet.
‘He won’t ask me what I plan to do’, she thought as he tied the rope across the
door and followed her towards the city. ‘As long as everything is in my head,
I’m certain everything is possible and that I will succeed. But if I spoke of it
to anyone – even him – I would hear how little hope I have of stopping Molin
Torch-holder or of changing Marilla’s fate.’
In the dream, her already dead body had been offered to Sabellia and Savankala.
Her morning’s introspection had convinced her that she was to introduce a corpse
into Molin Torchholder’s ceremonies. They passed the scene of the murder, but
Jubal’s men had reclaimed their comrade. The only other source of dead men she
knew of was the governor’s palace where executions were becoming a daily
occurrence under the tightening grip of the Hell Hounds.
They passed by the huge charnel-house just beyond the bazaar gates. The rain
held the death smells close by the half-timbered building. Could Sabellia and