Tisamon was waiting for her on the beach, and when she saw his face she realized that he had not been certain, despite all his promises to Stenwold, whether he ever would see her again.
She now wore the badge of his order on her arming jacket, and when the thought occurred, Did I really fight… she had only to touch the rents that the unknown blade had cut there, almost through to the skin. She was left only with the question, What was it that I fought? What blood did I drink?
The thought had come to her of those shadow-creatures in the Darakyon forest that she had seen that once when Tisamon led her through its margins. They had known his badge and his office, and stayed their hands for him.
There was a darkness at the heart of Parosyal, she understood, and it was best not to ask questions.
Tisamon’s eyes flicked from the brooch to her face, and he smiled just a little. She knew he would never ask, just as she could not ask him about his own experience all those years ago.
‘There is a boat that will take us over to Felyal before noon,’ he told her.
‘What do you hope to accomplish there?’ she asked him.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps nothing, but I will see what can be done. It will not be easy for you.’
‘This will help?’ She touched the brooch lightly.
‘It will keep them from killing you out of hand,’ he told her, ‘but you may still have to prove yourself to my people – as may I. With last night behind you, I have no doubt that you can.’