Orrock found it strange that the Agnise was silent. She seemed to have no prior compunction about voicing her thoughts. Her quietness unnerved him.

“What is it, Agnise?”

She glared. “You.”

“Me?” He sighed. “Now what great sin have I committed?”

“You should not have deceived him, Guar. I wondered myself why we went away from the Charic, but said nothing because I did not care. But this?”

She spit to one side.

Orrock kicked sand at the fire. It caught and sparked. “I was saving his life.”

“He did not want his life saved.”

Orrock blinked at her logic. It ran in defiance of all he’d learned from Brother Obos. Life was a gift from Anyi; thus all life was precious; thus all life was to be protected, unless a creature threatened another, in which case, a monk was free to use force and be not sinful in it. In this, a Guar made a strangely perfect sort of monk: one who possessed the strength and ability to use such force if ever needed. Already, had it not been called upon with the dogrels and the water dragon?

The monk shook his head to clear it of the debate in his mind. He fell back on his scripture. “I am doing my duty to Anyi, to protect the lives of all his creatures.”

Mohani barked a rueful laugh. “The Fell has no life worth protecting!”

Plainly that was foolish talk. “He was going to die if he persisted, and you know it.”

She leaned over the fire, eyes reflecting it like stars. “Then let him die pursuing that which he loves! No creature can ask for more than that. But you stole that right from him, monk. You are a liar, as the Fell said, and a sinner. Pray about that.”

Mohani stood and swung her pack over one shoulder. Orrock reared back. “Where are you going?”

“I cannot sit here and do nothing. I go to war with the little Fell.”

Orrock snorted. “I thought I was your mission.”

Mohani’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled. “I would sooner take the Fell.”

Orrock, stung, sat motionless as Mohani crashed recklessly into the dark forest, shouting, “Little Fell! Stop! Fell? . . . Tanin!”

She went on calling out. Orrock lost sight of her quickly, the blackness swallowing her. Once he could no longer see or hear her, he faced the fire and gave himself a nod.

Good.

Rid of both irritants now.

He nodded again. Yes, this was better, this is what Obos had intended. He would get a good night’s rest here at the river bank, and continue his journey tomorrow. In which direction? Well, why not keep heading south? Surely Anyi could be found there just as surely as anywhere else, and eventually he would be out of these endless woods. He would reach one of Kassia’s great oceans, and once there—if he hadn’t fulfilled his mission by then—he’d board a ship to wherever the winds carried him, letting Anyi’s will drive the sails.

Yes.

Anyi’s will.

Yes . . .

Orrock made himself comfortable in the sand and shut his eyes, praying for sleep to come. Yet it did not. Orrock moved first this way, then that, then tried again. No—he was fully awake.

So be it, he thought. I will meditate on the words of Anyi.

He tried this for as long as he could, running scripture through his head until it looped around on itself and ceased making any coherent sense. He tried singing hymns from the monastery, but gave that up quickly—Guar were not known for their song.

The monk sighed in his usual way. He let the deep breath slow his heart and attempt to clear his mind. He tried scripture again, running it through his mind as if on a scroll before his eyes.

All living creatures come from Anyi, and all shall be protected, for all such life is precious, according to the words of the Holy Creator.

What foolishness the Agnise spoke! He had kept that Fell alive all these days of travel. Had he not even helped him learn to defeat an opponent? To protect himself? The Fell lacked the strength and size and upbringing to ever be a Guar, of course, yet he had fought and won. There was victory for them both in that. Now he was better prepared to help himself face whatever life put before him. The Agnise was a fool, and no surprise at that.

. . . But what did she mean?

The Fell was alive. Even now as he recklessly pursed his quarry in the dark, thanks to the caring of this unique monk, he was at least conscious.

At least.

Orrock took a deep breath and felt his body sink. At least.

Anyi did not work in leasts. He wanted the best for his creation, for his creatures. He had declared as much in scripture.

Orrock knew the feeling of at least. When Obos found him those many years ago, covered in the blood of innocent Tashri, he’d been ready to die. Waited for it. But the old Tashri monk had nursed him back to health, forgiven him, and raised him in their way. It was not until then that Orrock knew what it meant to have something to live for. To be utterly devoted to a cause; to others.

He understood not suddenly but rather slowly now what the Agnise meant. Yes, the Fell was on a suicide mission and would fail just as surely—Orrock snorted a bit—as Mohani’s mission to take him would fail.

Yet at this very moment, she travelled the forest alone, or perhaps had already found the Fell and the wood witch, giving up her own mission to help them. And here he sat, warming himself proudly by the fire.

And Anyi was watching.

Anyi would watch as the Fell spent all he had to try and save his betrothed and his remnant people. He would watch as the Agnise and the witch helped him, perhaps even unto their own deaths.

Anyi would watch while this monk traipsed away, leaving them to their fate, and calling himself a very good servant of the Holy Creator all the while.

Orrock heaved another great, monkish sigh. Aloud, he said, “Why could we not have this discussion in the bright light of day?”

By then, the bright light of day was not so far off. He had lost an entire night’s sleep.

Very well, he thought, as if replying to Anyi’s quiet voice within him. Very well.

He kicked sand over the fire until it was dead, picked up his pack, and marched into the forest. He would do his very best to track the party down, and leave it to Anyi’s hand to guide him.