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his hands into soil. Causing life there, Sutter, isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
    Sutter’s mouth fell open in surprise. Tahn had seen the same reeling expression in his friend’s face only once before, on the first day Wendra had responded to his advances and kissed him full on the mouth. The tension dissipated, and Vendanj raised a finger to Sutter to signal an end to the exchange.
    This stranger reminded Tahn of his father: He was not petty, and his anger seemed appropriate, authorized somehow.
    “Master—”
    “You may want to become comfortable with my name,” the man said.
    Tahn nodded. “The boots you wear are not from the Hollows. The hide is too black and too thick.” He paused, trying to assess how his question would be received. He couldn’t read the man, whose face betrayed little of his thoughts. He came out with it. “What brings you here?”
    Vendanj’s lips curled into a slight but charming smile. “Spoken as only a man who watches the ground could.” But still he did not answer, instead asking his own question. “What of your sister, Tahn? How is she since the death of your father?” The man crossed one booted leg over the other and sat back.
    Vendanj knew much. And Tahn got the feeling he wouldn’t do well to lie or ask what business it was of his. “She is well. She misses our father, and often writes songs about our lives together before he was taken from us. I think it’s her way of dealing with his death.” He looked up from the floor, harrumphed out a breath, and scrubbed at his face. “She has a lovely voice, but she rarely shares it.”
    Vendanj sat forward again, watching Tahn intently, seeming eager to ask a question. He fingered the charm around his neck for a moment. Finally, he did not speak, but sat back, still seeming to consider what Tahn had said.
    Hambley returned and sat, wringing a wet rag.
    Sutter cleared his throat. “So, are you here for Northsun or to ask about Tahn’s sister?”
    A sorrowful look touched Vendanj’s eyes. “The observance of Northsun has mostly passed from the memory of the people.” He smiled wanly. “In the larger cities like Myrr and Recityv, the Exigents have put an end to such things in public. Few dare to brave the League’s wrath and be discovered keeping the day even in private.”
    “Exigents?” Sutter asked, looking at Tahn and Hambley for help.
    “Yes. At least, that is how they started. They now call themselves the League of Civility.” He frowned as he said it. “But in the beginning, they were known as the Exigency. In the Age of Hope, after the War of the First Promise, there was peace. In the midst of that peace, some men felt a need to record the histories passed down to them, to read and retell the stories of their forebears. Other men were compelled to stamp out this perpetuation of the past, believing it hindered men from fulfilling the promise of their own lives. These naysayers called themselves the Exigency, and soon the League of Exigents. Most scola believe the Exigents are responsible for ending the Age of Hope and for ushering in the Age of Discord; societies failed, losing connection with their past, becoming complacent. And those who defied the Exigents were put to death.
    “Some generations later, after they were well established, the Exigents’ mission became more measured, more often carried out in the halls of leadership. A thousand years later, Discord passed, and the Age of Civility began, so called because the League of Exigents renamed themselves after a new credo: to civilize mankind and root out arcane beliefs and practices … like the rendering of the Will.” Again the stranger frowned. “There are League garrisons everywhere now, in almost every city. They are reason enough to visit the Hollows.” Again he touched the pendant at his neck, an unconscious gesture that Tahn thought somehow comforted the man.
    Sutter did not pursue the matter, and the four men lapsed into an awkward