“Within the hour, we had that smuggler sail ‘on other quick business.’ If Tawleb’s timing had been merely a coincidence, say, he was hiring a smuggler for some other illicit cargo that we didn’t know about because we’d never really examined him that closely, then he would have waited for his favorite smuggler to return. He didn’t. He went to another instead. This one we let stay. And then early the morning of the executions, one of my light fingers returned to me with Tawleb’s diary.

“Most clever men just can’t help but brag about their cleverness, even if only to themselves. His wording was always vague enough that alone, it could have meant anything. Combined with all the rest of the evidence, though, it was damning.” She paused, a chastened grin stealing over her lips. “But perhaps I shouldn’t blame anyone for boasting of their cleverness, now should I? I’ve just done it myself.”

“I won’t tell. Promise,” Teia said, and she grinned for the first time.

“It’s nice to see you smile, Teia,” Karris said. There was a quick rap on the door, and five beats later, having given Teia just enough time to take up a post against one wall, a stoic Baya Niel poked his head in. “Breakfast and correspondence, High Lady.”

“Two minutes while I finish these papers,” Karris said.

He closed the door. Karris looked at Teia, somber once more.

“You’ve no hint what happened to Marissia or even Gavin?” she asked Teia. As if the girl would have held that back.

“No word at all, High Lady. Nor way to ask without arousing suspicion. Else I would have done it, I promise. I care for both of them, too, you know.”

Karris did. She was silent for a long while, querying Orholam and her own heart if she was ready for this next step. Orholam, please, this is the last moment to let me know if I’m stepping out of your will with this.

But he said nothing, and she saw nothing except that it must be done.

“Teia, I hoped that we could defang the Order. But serpents make poor pets. They offered a murder to you, as a gift? And allowing one of their own to kidnap the Prism’s own room slave? These are not actions of a group that can be brought back into Orholam’s goodness. Teia, what you’ve told me changes what we need to do. Much as I wish we could concentrate our forces in one direction at a time, this war must be fought on two fronts simultaneously. Are you familiar with the bull luxiatica Ad abolendam?”

“Uh, something to do with the luxors?”

“It’s a letter sealed with lead giving certain powers to an office or a person. It’s too dangerous for you to carry anything like that, so if you are challenged, yours will be hidden in my desk—in the secret compartment you found. Please don’t give me occasion to have to produce it.” Dear Orholam, forgive me. Even as I denounce serpents, I’m creating one.

“What are you talking about?” Teia said. “Why would I need such a thing?”

Will they put me on Orholam’s Glare for this? Will I deserve it? Her face as still and hard as the Iron White she aspired to be, Karris said, “In secret, I’m conferring upon you the title of Malleus Haereticorum. ‘Hammer of Heretics.’ You are now named and empowered as a luxor, Teia. The first named in my lifetime, and let us hope the last. Your mission is no longer merely to infiltrate the Order of the Broken Eye. You are to destroy them. Do whatever you have to do—up to and including murdering innocents. The blessing and forgiveness of the Chromeria and the Magisterium entire rest upon you for every lie and sin you deem necessary to accomplish this task. This is war. Kill the Order, Teia. Kill them all.”

Chapter 37

“Pity that by saving the village, we’ve destroyed it forever,” Big Leo said. “The Blood Robes’ retribution for this is going to be ugly.”

The Mighty were seated around a small fire in a hollow on an island, listening to Sibéal Siofra report what had happened below the falls as they had fought above them. The Mighty and the Ghosts would rendezvous in the morning—the battles had concluded after sunset, so there was no way the skimmers could cover all the leagues of river between them.

Sibéal had come alone overland, sneaking through the woods with the natural ease of her people. Conn Arthur had known the Mighty would want to hear how things had gone as soon as possible.

And Big Leo, bless the glowering lunk, had had the presence of mind to decide that the most vital provision that must be stolen before they scuttled the barge was wine. They passed several bulging skins around the fire, feeling young and invincible.

Except for Ferkudi. He’d been selected to be the lookout, which meant sober. He was vocal about his martyrdom.

The distraction raid below the falls, Sibéal reported, had been a huge success. She confirmed that the villagers had sunk their own barges before the Blood Robes arrived, hoping to protect their stockpiled grains. The Blood Robes, however, had brought their barges. When the Ghosts of Shady Grove attacked, they’d overwhelmed the Blood Robes’ barges so quickly they hadn’t needed to sink them. Instead, sparing only a few people, they’d stolen them and their nearly full load of flour.

The rest of the Ghosts had pressed on to the warehouses, seizing them as well, because the resistance was so light that the conn thought the Blood Robes would smell a trap if he pulled back.

He’d wisely shored up his defenses at the warehouses, avoiding a disaster when they discovered that there were over a thousand Blood Robes camped less than a league away—and coming fast.

“A thousand!” Cruxer exclaimed.

Instead of engaging in a hopeless battle, the Ghosts set fire to the warehouses and retreated before the reinforcements arrived.

Final tally: fifteen to twenty enemy killed. One dead and two wounded among the Ghosts. And all of the Blood Robes’ provisions either stolen or destroyed.

But Big Leo was right: The White King’s men wouldn’t believe that the opposing force had simply materialized without local support. There would be retribution. Conn Arthur had told the people to flee, but Sibéal said that some wouldn’t listen. Some never listen.

“We can’t let our fear of what they’ll do to retaliate dictate what we do,” Kip said. “If we let that work, they’ll do it again and again until we can do nothing at all.”

“On the other hand,” Ben-hadad said, “not to be coldhearted, but the more brutal the Blood Robes’ retaliation, the more people will come to our banners.”