all of Lenayin, preaching to those who would listen. Few indeed, it would have been back then, in pagan, Cherrovan-ruled Lenayin.
It was only then that she caught sight of a dark figure kneeling upon the raised space behind the altar, hidden from the central aisle by a lectern. He knelt on a cushion before a pedestal, upon which hung a Verenthane star on a gold chain. Across the wall behind was a huge wooden star, inlaid with gold and silver, and set into the very stone of the wall.
Sasha stopped as the priest scurried about the steps and whispered reverently in the kneeling figure's ear. The figure wore a communion shroud on his head, like a black, silken handkerchief, blocking out the physical world, so that he could focus entirely upon the spiritual. Sasha felt her heart gallop in gathering alarm and dismay. She had not known that her father wore the shroud at prayer. Such things were for the especially devout, and the penitent and fallible.
Torvaal rose, slowly, removed the cloth from his head, and gave it to the priest. Then he backed from the pedestal, head bowed, and straightened, arching his neck as if to stretch stiff muscles, gazing up at the huge, eight-pointed Verenthane star upon the wall above.
“Daughter,” he said, and his voice was clear in the hushed temple air, although he had not spoken loudly. His tone held no anger, only calm. That, at least, was a relief. “You have come to me.”
The priest gestured urgently for Sasha to approach. She did so, clutching Daryd's hand as she rounded the altar steps. She recalled blue blossoms behind the priest at the altar from childhood services. Now there was the neck chain and star. She wondered at the significance.
“My Lord,” she addressed her father, and sank to one knee. Daryd did likewise, shooting her sideways looks to see that he did it properly. Clutched in her own, she could feel his hand trembling.
“Rise, daughter,” said Torvaal. There was a calmness to his tone that had been absent on previous occasions. He seemed almost…content. Sasha's hopes rose dramatically. “How long has it been since you last ventured into this place?”
“A long time, Father.” Torvaal had not yet looked at her. He gazed instead upward, his expression distant. His black beard, she saw in profile, had been recently trimmed. “Twelve years, I would think. Krystoff's funeral.”
Her father drew in a long, deep breath. Sasha wondered if she'd said the wrong thing. “Yes,” Torvaal said quietly. “Yes, that would be the time. The last time that Kessligh, too, was here.”
“Aye, my Lord,” said Sasha. “It would be.”
“It is beautiful, is it not?” Torvaal asked. “Such tranquillity.”
The priest, Sasha noted, had melted away. They were alone in the great temple, herself and her father. And Daryd, who understood barely a word. She had not been in such a circumstance with him perhaps ever, in her entire life. Suddenly, her mouth felt dry. “Very beautiful, my Lord.”
A faint smile seemed to tug at Torvaal's lips. “Such manners. Whenever one of your sisters comes to me in search of some great favour, I hear much the same tone.” Sasha blinked. It was almost humour. She was astonished. “What would you ask of me, daughter mine?”
“That you consider the plight of this boy, my Lord.” Torvaal looked at her for the first time. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if the sight surprised him. Well, perhaps it did.
His gaze slipped down to consider the boy. “He is Udalyn, my Lord,” said Sasha.
Torvaal nodded. “I know,” he said, with a faint weariness. “I heard you from the entrance. Not for nothing do I wear the shroud. The gods are infallible, Sashandra. Yet the more I have attempted communion with their light, the more I recognise my own failings. Even with the shroud, I cannot find peace. The noise of the world penetrates my ears, and the silent enlightenment of heaven eludes me yet.”
“Then you know that Ymoth has fallen, father!” Sasha was unable to keep the urgency from her voice. “Usyn Telgar leads the armies of Hadryn against the Udalyn, against all the instruction of Baen-Tar for the past hundred years! The boy's name is Daryd and he does not know whether his parents are alive or dead! He rode to Baen-Tar to plead with you for their lives, Father, and the lives of his people! Will you order them saved?”
Torvaal took a deep breath. He turned and gazed up at the great Verenthane star