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said awkwardly. He had been raised in a Forestland village to protect his identity, and even after all his time at court, he still found it difficult to get used to all the bowing and curtseying from high nobles.
    She lowered her bow and watched him with a chilling intelligence he had always found disconcerting. Her eyes missed nothing as she slid her gaze over his face, likely bearing the trace of recent tears, his ripped sleeve, which had caught on a rose bush as he stalked unseeingly through the grounds, his aching hands, their knuckles still white from the force with which he had been clenching his fists, now slowly relaxing by his sides. She was in no hurry to start the conversation, for which Kyth felt inwardly grateful. He was in no mood for court pleasantries.
    “I had no idea you were an archer,” he said.
    She smiled. “It’s just a passtime, Your Highness. The weather was too fine to stay indoors.”
    “I– I seem to have taken a wrong turn in the garden,” Kyth said. “I should leave you to it.”
    She curtseyed again. “Pray be careful, Prince Kythar. If you had come out into the open on the target side of the range…”
    Against reason, he smiled. “Having witnessed your skill, I am certain I was in no danger, my lady.”
    She blushed and lowered her eyes.
    “You are too kind,” she murmured.
    Kyth bowed and made his exit, back through the thicket toward the castle wall. Trying to keep his eyes away from the sweeping view of the lake, he circled the wall all the way to the front courtyard and back into his quarters. To keep his promise to Kara, he was supposed to act like nothing was going on. He was due in his father’s council chambers in half an hour to discuss the message from the Monastery, and he had no intention of showing up there on the verge of tears, wearing disheveled clothes.
    Strangely enough, the thought of his encounter with Lady Celana brought another smile to his face as he made his way upstairs. He was not used to women blushing so deeply at his compliments, especially not those as smart and level-headed as he knew Celana to be. Was it possible that she liked him?
    He dismissed the thought. It hardly mattered. Besides, he had more pressing things to deal with.

4
REINCARNATE
    In the red sunset glow the courtyard shadows bled with deep, velvety darkness. Low sunbeams licked the roughly hewn stones of the Great Shal Addim Temple, throwing the shadow of its jagged outline across the inner Monastery grounds. From his position by the wall, Kaddim Tolos could easily observe activity without drawing attention to himself.
    Dozens of eyes followed the pacing figure of the Reincarnate with the reverence of the newly converted, the row of black-robed shapes against the walls of the courtyard so still that they appeared inanimate. Even the sight of the dead body lying motionless at his feet couldn’t possibly command as much fear as his wiry figure, enfolded in a private aura of chill.
    Tolos followed the Reincarnate’s gaze down to the dead man. Kaddim Nimos, one of the most valuable members of the Brotherhood, struck down by an unfortunate blow that was never supposed to happen. It was amazing to see how death could rob anyone of their commanding presence, reducing even the most powerful of men to a pale, drawn shell, a useless inanimate object. This transformation seemed even more incredible for the Kaddim, who could then be resurrected to their former glory. Tolos hoped that it wasn’t too late in this case. They needed Nimos for their plans to succeed. Besides, a Kaddim Brother’s life was too precious to lose in something as simple and trivial as a sword fight.
    “How did he die?” the Reincarnate asked. His voice had the same quality as his movements, its deep sound entrancing listeners like the coiling dance of a poisonous snake.
    The figures closest to the Reincarnate exchanged nervous glances, their searching gazes venturing further, toward Tolos’s silent figure standing at