At last, the boy Blackthorn composed himself. He peered at the compassionate gazes of both His Majesty and the Captain of the Royal Guard. "I will take the Captain of Yew to my father. I know where he is. He will not have fled. Despite all of this, he remains a just and honorable man."

Slowly, he turned his back upon his King, and brushed past Shaana's father. He heard the captain follow him, step by step. The hallway which led to the outside world seemed to stretch out before him, the door to Yew far, far away, receding before him, as if each step . . .

. . . brought him closer to the lonesome figure seated at the end of the great table, the table where just a few months before, Blackthorn had thrown his sword at Windemere's feet, the same sword that had ended the Councilor's life less than a week ago.

The doors to the chamber of the Great Council closed, their echo far too loud. Blackthorn winced. The blind Councilor merely looked up and smiled. "'Tis always good to see thee, my friend," Hassad said. He patted the chair next to him, and the shackles that chained him to his chair jingled. "Please, have a seat."

Blackthorn adjusted his scabbard so that he could sit. "Where are they, Hassad?"

"I cannot say."

He peered into the Councilor's sightless eyes. Even though the blind could not see, their eyes could betray the truth. But not with Hassad. "You cannot say, or you do not know?"

"Either one. Or both, I suppose, depending on the one thou dost name."

Blackthorn leaned back, weariness overcoming him. "No, my friend, I will name no one. Thou dost not need to betray thy peers. I will find them myself. Men and women of such prominence can hide for only so long. Someone will recognize them."

"Thou wouldst be surprised, I think, of how unrecognizable a councilor can be," Hassad grinned. "Oh, there are a few of us who are well known below the official levels. Windemere, for one. I, for another. But only because we made efforts to reach out to the communities we served. Fiona, too, since she always tended to the poor. The rest. . . . Who can say? Felespar never bothered with the common man, so why would they bother with him? Same with Annon, though to a lesser extent. Goeth is just another crazed mage to his people. Sindar?" Hassad laughed. "I don't think the man is awake for more than one hour out of the day, and even then I wonder. Who knows how many paladins of Trinsic know of him, or even care. As for Malifora." His lips tightened in thought. "She was a mystery even to us. Even now, when I think of her, her face is shrouded by that veil." His chains clinked when he shrugged. "It will be no easy task to find them all. Well, all except Felespar. The fool will appear soon enough, to offer thee a deal of some sort."

"Yes," Blackthorn nodded. "I am afraid he will. Tell me, Hassad, why did they release Windemere? And why did they flee? Are they that afraid of me?"

"Wouldst thou not be?" answered Hassad, solemnly. "Thou didst storm into our chamber and take one of us prisoner without writ or summons, outside the accordance of the laws that thou didst swear to obey and protect."

The pace of Blackthorn's heart quickened ever so slightly, just enough to stir his anger. "He slew the leaders of the Black Company, and the advisors of Sir Simon and Lord Malone." And he murdered Shaana. Made me murder Shaana. Quicker his heart beat, and the anger flowed.