Chapter 6

The game was the thing. Gray Brother Luminous could have bought himself a 100-ply abbey years ago, or retired as a respectable citizen of any background he cared to fake, but money didn’t buy contentment. It was the chase that mattered. He had long ago lost count of his score and nowadays usually left the actual outings to the youngsters, who appreciated any opportunity to increase their own tallies. But the hunt, the being somebody else, the planning, the lying in ambush—those were the things that made life worth living. One day, Heaven would decide to move him on to the Fifth World. His departure might involve a horrible display in some city square, but even then he would have no regrets. Free public entertainment would be his final role.

Nonetheless, he was aging, and spending the best part of a day on a horse in the heat of Fish Moon was a strain. There was no shade anywhere. The rolling hills were mummified already and Luminous was close to it. Lord Silk Hand, riding beside him, looked dusty and sweaty, but quite unwearied, grinning eagerly as the play unfolded. Savoring the game. A promising lad, Silky, the best to come along in years, brilliant and deadly, if inclined to be reckless. This Goat Haven project would be an incredible score if the boy could pull it off, but the risks were enough to make a man’s queue stand on end, straight up, if he had one. There would be no public entertainment at the end of this road, but the consequences might be as fatal and even more prolonged. The ranchers were as hard as their horseshoes.

Luminous glanced behind him to inspect his retinue, all supplied by the abbess of Cherish. Watersprite was there, dressed as a boy, but currently flirting with Windchime, one of the Cherish Helpers. Behind them rode another, Carp, and also the curiously named Mercy, on loan from some abbey down river, a skilled young archer anxious to add a notch to his tally stick. His crossbow was well hidden in the baggage, of course. Altogether, they were a convincing following for a minor nobleman. Private armies were strictly regulated in the Good Land.

It wasn’t the deception that was the problem in this venture. Luminous was confident that his performance as Prince Luminous Aspect would be flawless, and Silky as his aide had passed the ranchers’ inspection on his earlier visit. Once credibility had been established, the second presentation always went more smoothly. No, it was in the seamy underside of the cloth that the bedbugs lurked, not on the public face. Any seed of suspicion planted during Silky’s earlier visit had had a week to sprout.

Watersprite had put the forged will in place on that previous call. The purpose of this one was to arrange Sky Hammer 7’s death—preferably by seemingly natural causes and not during the strangers’ stay. This was Silky’s mission, so he must choose how to proceed. He must make the crucial decision between certainty and subtlety. The Gray Helpers always had at least two plans for an outing, and in this case, they had at least three.

The simplest and most brutal option required Sky Hammer to accompany his noble guest when he went to Heaven’s Threshold to view the legendary Portal of Worlds tomorrow or the next day. The old man must have seen it thousands of times, but he might go again, just because there was so much talk of a possible opening in the near future. If he did, and did not take too many guards of his own along, then he would die with an arrow hole through either him or his horse, tumbling and rolling down the cliff that Silky had so joyfully described. A tragic mishap!

The trouble with Plan One was that it was far too obvious. As soon as that extraordinary will was discovered, screams of murder would rise to Heaven’s chimneypots. Governor Scarlet Meadow, in Cherish, was party to the plot, but if the disinherited Sky Rider appealed to the provincial governor in Wedlock, or even to the Golden Throne itself, then the noodles would come unraveled.

A more insidious option was Plan Two, smallpox, which would have the advantage of not showing up until ten or twelve days after Luminous Aspect and his entourage had departed. Moreover, the resulting panic would strip the ranch of hands who might resist the governor’s troops when they arrived to assess death taxes and impose the new owner. The disadvantages were that the outbreak might not catch the old tyrant himself, and Goat Haven would be unsafe to visit for some time after.

There was always wolfsbane. Having used that poison so effectively against Distant Cloud on his first score, Silky was leaning toward using it again. Luminous disliked that option for two reasons. First, it was too sudden. The subject’s death while strangers were visiting, swiftly followed by the discovery of an incredible will in the chest in the same room—who would ever believe in that legend? Besides, it would require either Silky himself or another Helper to repeat Sister Watersprite’s feat of entering Sky Hammer’s bedroom while he slept. One toe stubbed in the dark, or one old man suddenly needing the chamber pot, and all would be lost.

Silky was bound to have other ideas he had not mentioned, and Luminous would be very interested to see which method he used. Sky Hammer’s life expectancy was undoubtedly very short.

“This hill is Goat Haven,” Silky said. “Those two cairns mark the turnoff.”

Not a moment too soon.

C C CSilky had barely left with the others that morning before Verdant strolled out to the stable to begin her morning ride. She genuinely enjoyed riding, although she had tried it, at first, mainly out of boredom and a wicked sense of daring. Back in Wedlock, her parents would have been scandalized beyond belief at the idea of any woman on horseback, let alone a respectable lady of the mercantile class. In the last week, riding had become her excuse to talk with Walnut Shell, her hope for freedom.

She was determined to escape from Silky, a thief and merciless killer. After Silkworm was born, she had refused to let him touch her. Their marriage was a sham, she had said, and her son was illegitimate. Even after three months, when the birth nurse had left, whispering that it was safe and decent for a woman to “admit her husband to her room” again, Verdant had refused. Silky had never argued, threatened, begged, or complained. He had just stood in the doorway or sat on a chair, talking of other things and looking so unbearably sexy that even watching him breathe made her want to tear his clothes off. And one night, somehow—she was never quite sure how—she had found him not just inside her room, but inside the bedcovers and her, too. As always, he had coaxed her body into betraying her with fits of the most intense passion she could imagine. Now she suspected that she might be pregnant again.

Escape would not be easy. Silky had left Plum Blossom behind, obviously to be Verdant’s jailer. But Plum Blossom would find Silkworm much easier to watch than his mother, knowing that she would never run away without him. At the moment, he was still making the entire household suffer from his colic, so Verdant was free to finalize her plans with Walnut Shell.

He was waiting with the last two horses saddled, hers and the one normally ridden by Plum Blossom. Since seeing Silky off, he had donned a tunic, a garment he wore only when he escorted Verdant into town. Without a word, he offered his hands for her boot and hoisted her up to the saddle. Then he swung nimbly aboard the other mount and they trotted out of the yard together.

She half expected to see the gate keeper replaced by a platoon of Gray Helpers. There might be some in the guard house, but only the usual day man, Bold Star, was visible. Bent and toothless, he scurried out to open the gate for her, bowing low as she passed.

Verdant could now speak without fear of being overheard, but that did not mean that she could trust her uncouth accomplice, who might well turn out to be another Silky spy. He was uneducated but not stupid. She had not put her needs into words yet, but she had hinted enough, so Walnut Shell knew what she wanted of him. He had certainly indicated what he wanted of her, although his idea of wooing was to stare at her with half-closed lids and fondle his crotch. Today she would spell out her plan and, if at all possible, put it into effect.

Without preamble, she said. “I am going to leave my husband and return to my parents.”

“Yes, lady.” He turned on his noon-strength smile.

“Taking my baby and his nurse.” White Petal had not even started weaning Silkworm.

“Yes.” Walnut Shell was a man of few words.

“Will you help me?”

“How?”

“Think well,” she said. “It’s a crime to take a woman away from her husband. Lord Silk Hand could report you to the magistrates.”

Walnut Shell snorted. “Him? He’s a Gray Helper.”

“How do you know … I mean, why do you think that?”

“He’s in and out of their lair all the time.”

“You’re not frightened of him?”

“Not if we get away fast. How?”

“There are ships in the harbor. I will buy passage for us. I need you to come with me, because I cannot travel without a man.” No captain would let an unaccompanied woman aboard his vessel unless he had a brothel license, and in that case, the girls would be his employees. “I will give you money when we reach Wedlock.”

She expected him to ask how much.

He beat around no bushes. “We share a bed?”

“Of course.” She returned his smile encouragingly. Why not? She had played whore to get impregnated by Silky, so she could do so again to rescue her son. Besides, the hostler was not hard to smile at. He offered nothing in the way of daytime conversation, but considered purely as future nighttime entertainment, he could hardly be bettered.

“Leave today?”

“If we can.”

He nodded. “Go find a ship now?”

She felt a shudder of delicious terror. She had dreamed of this moment. “Yes, now.”

Her escort nodded and let her ride on ahead, falling back to a servant’s proper place in the rear. Soon they left the area of big, walled houses, passed by the gloomy fort, and entered the teeming trading dock lands along the river. She sniffed at her perfumed sleeve to deaden the stench. She would have to live with smells and fleas and bad food for at least the next two weeks.

One thing that must be said of Silky, he was never miserly. He let her have all the money she asked for to run the household and she had saved quite enough of it to pay the fare back down river. She would have to do the bargaining, because Walnut Shell would be out of his depth, but she had seen how it was done on last year’s painfully prolonged trip up from Wedlock.

It turned out to be easier than she expected, because there was only one paddle wheeler in the harbor. She did not trust the small craft or their crews. Having warned her companion not to speak, she walked up the gangplank with him at her heels, hoping neither of them got soot on their clothes to arouse Plum Blossom’s suspicions. Her heart sank when she saw the stokers already raising steam—she could not leave without her child.

The captain was a tall, curt man, almost as laconic as Walnut Shell. She explained that her husband’s mother was very ill in Wedlock and they wished to go there as soon as possible. She needed a first-class cabin for them, a small one for their child and his nurse. The captain eyed her companion suspiciously, but did not ask if that ill-clad, black-nailed yokel was the husband in question.

He named a fare. She countered.

“No haggling, my lady. I will have to evict the passengers that have already hired those cabins.”

She demanded to see them. Walnut Shell followed and inspected the accommodation, too, although she had not, and would not, ask his opinion. He came out with all his teeth showing, for there was only one pallet provided and no room for more. The second cabin was a hutch, in which even Silkworm and White Petal would be squashed, but that was to be expected. Verdant accepted the tariff, haggled over the deposit, and demanded a receipt in case the ship left a little earlier than the announced sailing time of midafternoon. The port authorities were particular about such misunderstandings, although they would be more interested in extracting a fine from the captain than recovering her money.

Trembling at what she had just done, she went back down to the horses with her accomplice close behind. Desertion, kidnapping, and soon adultery? Not that Silky would care about the last, because he was even more convinced than she that she was already pregnant again. If she asked permission to cuckold him, he would probably tell her to go right ahead and enjoy herself. He would object vehemently to the abduction of his son.

So somehow Verdant must distract Plum Blossom and return to the dock again with Silkworm and his wet nurse. And her too-eager escort, of course.

Luminous saw at once that Silky had observed and described Goat Haven well: the long grassy hillside to the guard post at the base of the cliffs; the steeper, well fortified path up to the plateau; and the maze of paddocks and buildings there. The noble Luminous Aspect’s approach had been observed, so his arrival was expected, but he noticed that the escort provided easily outnumbered the one he had brought—no less than a dozen slit-eyed, stone-faced borderers armed with both rifles and pistols. Perversely, he welcomed this evidence of the locals’ distrust. If they thought twelve ranch hands had a hope against six Gray Helpers, then they had no idea what they were up against.

They all wore barbarian costume of leather breeches and tunics, but Sky Rider was waiting at the top of the climb to greet the noble guest on his father’s behalf, and he wore proper gentlemen’s robes. He was a chubby man of medium height with a vaguely vacuous face. Not impressive at all, decided Luminous, who prided himself on judging people. Speeches were made.

The visitors were escorted to a guesthouse, comprising a fine chamber for the prince and a dormitory that would have held a dozen retainers. Silky remained impassive as they looked around, but he could not be pleased. He had hoped the fake prince’s retinue would be billeted in one of the hands’ bunkhouses, where they could leave smallpox-infected blankets as a farewell gift if he chose that plan. Moreover, the guesthouse had only one door, which would obviously be watched at night. Luminous soon discovered two more problems.

As soon as Prince Luminous Aspect and Lord Silk Hand—guards did not count—had washed and changed after their journey, they were led across to the main palace building and the hall that Silky had described. There was no meal in progress this time, the floor looked as if it had been freshly swept in the guests’ honor, and their host was standing on his dais to greet them. Low bows and flowery greetings were exchanged, and then the two princes sat down on cushions to drink tea and discuss the mess the world was in. Luminous noted that Sky Hammer leaned on his son’s arm to do so, but the implication of that escaped him at the time. Attendants withdrew to a respectable distance.

Despite his fine silken draperies, all adorned with fat artistic horses, Sky Hammer was far too sun-dried to be mistaken for the sort of noble who would be welcome in Sublime Mountain. His grating speech bore more resemblance to the sound of paddleboats than to the Palace Voice spoken there. He was tall, lean, and aging, yet he still looked capable of holding his own in a fight. He would be far harder to deceive than his son.

How official his title might be was immaterial. The governor’s clerks in Cherish classed him as a rancher and landowner, but in practice, he was a clan chief or minor warlord, a semidomesticated brigand. Yet his pleasure at meeting his visitor seemed genuine enough. Real princes coming to call must be as rare as whales in these hills, although many of his neighbors likely claimed the same pseudo-royal honors he did. That Luminous Aspect was a self-promoted corpse washer must not become a topic of conversation, or the mountebank and his companions would descend from the plateau much faster than they had come up.

It was easy enough to steer the talk around to Tenth Dynasty scroll paintings. Many were hung around the three walls enclosing the dais, but Luminous had memorized the inventory taken by the Gray Sisters two years ago and knew that this was only a small part of the Goat Haven collection. He let his eyes wander.

“You are a collector yourself, Noblest?” the rancher inquired.

“In a very humble way. Indeed, what you have on display here quite overawes my few trifles, and I cannot believe your magnificence would expose his greatest treasures to the vagaries and odors of a dining hall.”

“But I like to keep some of my favorites by me. The one by Smoke Hand is not without merit, I believe.” Serve. …

Without hesitation, Brother Luminous glanced up at the scroll his host referred to. “His treatment of wind in long grass is quite unmistakable.” Return. … “The waterfall behind me cannot be a genuine Agate Shining though?”

Even the dour Sky Hammer seemed as impressed as he should be, for the fraudulent Luminous Aspect could have had only a few seconds on his way in to observe the waterfall, let alone study it. “A clumsy imitation by one of his pupils. The original hangs in my chamber. If Your Excellency would care to see?”

That was when Luminous discovered a major snarl in the web that Silky had been hoping to weave. The moment Sky Hammer began to rise from his cushion, it was obvious that the effort cost the old man considerable pain. Sky Rider strode forward from the shadows to help. Of course one could not ask why and must pretend to be so engrossed in the paintings that he had not noticed. But if the rancher had sprained his back, come off a horse, or was even suffering a worse-than-usual attack of hemorrhoids, then he would certainly not want to go sightseeing at Heaven’s Threshold tomorrow. Abandon Plan One.

The prince’s bedroom was in a separate building, connected by a tiled and roofed breezeway. Sky Hammer walked slowly, but no slower than was seemly, and his only sign of discomfort was a clenched jaw. When they reached his bedroom, though, he sank into a padded chair with a long sigh of relief. The chamber was spacious and bright, as the Gray Sisters had described it. Twenty-three paintings hung on the walls, their subtle tints emphasized by the brilliant colors of the soft quilts on the brick sleeping platform and the floor’s wool carpets. Luminous stopped and drew a deep breath, as if inhaling the essence of beauty.

“Magnificent! Oh that my revered father could have glimpsed such a miracle, just once in his life!” He did not look anywhere near the muniment chest under the center window, oak and iron, black with age. In there lurked the fake will that was the essence of this entire scam. Nor did he look at the bed, because if Silky decided on wolfsbane as the agent of choice, it was there that the deadly dust would have to be sprinkled.

“It was my own grandfather who began the collection,” Sky Hammer said. “But take your time, Highness. Wallow! Drink deep. Sometimes I feel like a miser, hoarding such beauty all to myself.”

“Who could bear to do otherwise? This is the true Agate Shining waterfall you mentioned. Yes, the brush of the master is unmistakable.” Just for now, Luminous Aspect was a true expert. In a few months, Luminous would have forgotten it all, but he was confident that Sky Hammer would not unmask him.

The old man seemed to have lost any desire to test him. He clearly adored his scroll paintings. This hobby must be most of his life now, and the chance to share it with another enthusiast was a treat. He watched eagerly as his guest worked his way along the wall, scroll by scroll, judging and admiring. The two old men chattered like children. But then …

“Observe up there,” Sky Hammer said, pointing a gnarled finger at a painting, “how the curl of the cloud matches the bend of the tree branch?” A true gentleman should have smooth fingers with long, dagger-like nails. His were chewed and none too clean, the skin ingrained with dirt.

Luminous did not observe the curl of the cloud. He was staring in horror at Sky Hammer 7’s wrist, paler skin exposed where his silk sleeve had fallen away. In this brighter chamber, he could see the distinctive pits of smallpox scars on the old man’s wattled neck also. They might be half a century old, but if Sky Hammer had once survived a bout with smallpox, then he would not succumb again, and Silky’s best plan lay in ruins.

When the visitor came to the ugly muniment chest, he ignored it, but paused to admire the view. He was surprised to see that the building was perched almost on the edge of the cliff, with only a narrow paved terrace and a low wall separating them. Beyond those lay more long vistas of the Fortress Hills—the rounded green females and the larger, taller male ones, with their flat hats of white limestone. Then—in the far, far distance—the great icy peaks of the Western Wall.

“The great masters would appreciate this monumental view, Your Highness. The world does homage at your window. Can you see the Portal of Worlds from here?”

“Regrettably, no. That hill is in the way. I keep meaning to have it moved.” Clearly a standard joke. “But Sky Rider will be happy to conduct you to Heaven’s Threshold tomorrow. The lighting is best in the late morning.”

“Incredible!” There was no point in killing Sky Rider yet.

The roof creaked. The sky roared.

Luminous turned to the door as his host leaped from the chair with surprisingly agility. Before they had moved three steps, the windows shattered behind them, and the floor began heaving under their feet so they could no longer stay upright. Luminous grabbed his host and they went down together, twisting so he ended up underneath the old man. Although the impact was heavy enough to knock all the breath out of him, he had his host’s body to shield him from falling debris, as the roof writhed and began to fail. Both men were screaming in terror.

Brother Luminous had experienced earthquakes before, but nothing to compare with this. The building was flapping like a rug shaken by a housemaid. The noise alone was stunning. He fully expected to die, or be beaten to a pulp by repeated bouncing on the floor. Daylight showed above him as the roof collapsed, massive beams dropping in a hail of tiles. He burrowed in under Sky Hammer as well as he could.

His head bounced up and down on the tiles hard enough to daze him. He may even have been unconscious, briefly, for he had distinct feeling that some time had passed, yet the earth’s rampage still continued. He was buried in darkness, and dust made his eyes water so hard he could not have seen anything anyway. The pressure on his chest was such that he could hardly breathe. The entire roof seemed to be lying on him.

Suddenly, there was light. He was looking at hazy blue sky. He was falling.

When Silky went with Brother Luminous to wait upon Sky Hammer, he had ordered his band to explore the ranch. If challenged, they were to say they had been told to check on their mounts, and thereafter they should try to make friendly and get shown around. Shortly after, when Luminous and Sky Hammer went to the prince’s quarters to study the stupid paintings, Silky followed. The door was shut in his face.

The air was still, hot, and heavy as lead. Pretending to admire the scenery, he sat on the low wall flanking the shady side of the connecting breezeway and leaned against one of the posts supporting the roof. Another hill blocked his view of the Portal of Worlds, which he no longer expected to see on this trip—­certainly old Sky Hammer hadn’t been moving like a man willing to spend half a day on a horse for esthetic reasons. Smallpox was drastic and unreliable, strictly a last resort. Fortunately, Silky had brought along a selection of useful toxins. While he was mentally reviewing them, he realized that the vapid Sky Rider was standing just outside the hall, watching him. Likely every member of the team was being similarly shadowed.

“What’s it like here in the winter?” Silky intended to stay at Goat Haven until at least then, once he had taken possession.

For a while, the heir stood and scowled at him resentfully, but eventually he succumbed to Silky’s winning smile and came to join him. He sat on the wall opposite, looking offensively suspicious and untrusting.

“Cold. Windy.”

“How many head do you keep up here in summer?”

Long pause, then a shrug. “Just working stock.”

No surprise. The breeding herds would be out in the hills, growing fat on lush spring grass, while the limited grazing on the plateau would be saved for winter.

“You have much trouble with rustlers?”

“Not after we shoot ’em.”

Conversation was a struggle, answers always shorter than questions. Silky very soon concluded that Sky Rider wouldn’t know which end of a noodle should be eaten first. He did admit that he had buried two wives and had several sons around. The exact number had perhaps escaped him. Silky made a note to identify them, because they might have to be outed also.

About then, the boring conversation was enlivened by an earsplitting thunder, almost immediately joined by a major earthquake. Silky found himself on the ground, which kept tossing him like a salad, so that he was unable to stand or even sit up. The breezeway collapsed. Somewhere, people were screaming. It all seemed to last a lifetime, and he wondered what would be left of Goat Haven.

When the ground stopped leaping and the incredible noise ceased, he heard himself coughing in the dust, and assumed that he was still alive. He had far too many bruises to count, but probably no broken bones. Although the breezeway had gone, spilling him out on the grass, the worst of the debris had missed him. Sky Rider had not been so lucky, for the roof had toppled in his direction as it fell. He was lying on the shattered tiles, moaning, buried from the chest down under beams and tiles. The air was thick with dust and a hundred horses were screaming in terror.

Sky Hammer 7’s personal quarters, where the two self-appointed princes had been inspecting paintings, had vanished altogether. The quake had taken a great bite out of the plateau, and only the front doorstep remained on the cliff’s new edge. The next step would be one’s last. … Luminous Aspect and Sky Hammer 7 and the muniment chest must be far below, buried under thousands of tons of rock. So the princely domain of Goat Haven was to be the personal property of the ninny lying at Silky’s feet, who had now recovered enough to start bleating for help. He would assume the name of Sky Hammer 8 and rule all he surveyed. Or would he? Where was Brother Silky’s great inheritance? Why was Silky not equally worthy? Had not Heaven just sent a sign?

“How badly are you hurt?”

“Help me! I’m in pain. Help me! Help me!”

“I can cure the pain.” When a Gray Brother surrendered his weapons, only visible weapons were involved. In an instant, Silky could whip out a thin cord and scrag the new prince, but a ruptured trachea and cyanosed face would not be consistent with death by earthquake. He found the largest balk of wood he could lift and flattened Sky Hammer 8’s skull.

Now to restore some order to this chaos. The dust had gone. At least three buildings were on fire, but they must be left to burn out. Horses were still tearing around the meadows in panic, on ground strewn with rubble from fallen walls and buildings. Probably much of the stock here at the ranch had already suffered fatal injuries, and the rest soon would. Fortunately, the greater part of the stud was out on open grassland. Those might have stampeded, but they should have escaped serious harm.

Men were arriving, looking for orders, and the only man around wearing a gentleman’s robes was Lord Silk Hand. He called on all his seeming magic to portray authority. Soon he was facing a crowd of about a score of men and almost as many women, plus sobbing children of all ages. His own four helpers were all there, and had come to the front. He raised his arms. Three Gray Brothers and one Gray Sister sank to their knees, and of course the shattered and bereaved inhabitants of Goat Haven did the same.

“The noble prince, Sky Hammer 7, and his noble son, Sky Rider, have both mounted to the Fifth World. May Heaven speed their passage! We must do all we can to salvage what is left of the stud they held so dear, as they would have wished. Who is senior here?”

Who indeed? After some glances and muttering, one man sank to touch his face to the grass. “Assistant Stablemaster Granite, my lord.”

“Up, up! I appoint you Chief Foreman Granite, or whatever the top title is, until we see who has lived and who died. For today, at least, you are in charge. You must detail men to collect and calm the horses as well as you can. They will not settle properly until all the injured ones have been silenced, and you must see to that also. Assign about half your people to locating and rescuing the injured. Women can help with that. Set up a place for the wounded. As for the departed …”

He paused to watch the horror spread, the dread of contact with the ill-omened dead.

“Where is the nearest House of Joyful Departure?”

“In Cherish, my lord,” said Granite.

Cherish? What had happened in Cherish? So large an earthquake must have done some damage there. The full horror of the disaster struck Silky as he realized that his beloved Thunderbot might be among the slain. And his second child, as yet unborn? Realizing he could do nothing about them now, he struggled to put them out of his mind, which was not as easy as he expected. Verdant, too, kept coming back to haunt him and muddle his planning.

“The town will be in ruins. There will be hundreds or thousands of dead there needing care. The road is probably impassable.” Even the trail down the cliff would be. “My men will gather the departed. Prepare a great pyre—”

Quick-witted Carp shouted out, “No, no, my lord!”

Windchime joined in with even louder protests.

“Yes!” Silky thundered. “The bane is greatest for family and household. We, being strangers, may even acquire some merit for a charitable act. So prepare a worthy pyre, Chief Foreman, and my men will lay out the departed for their ascension. I have attended enough funerals in my life to recall most of the blessing, I believe. I will chant a simple farewell for them.”

He saw the relief in their eyes and knew that he had won their respect. They would accept him, for the present. In a few days, it would become a habit. They were humble people who had lost loved ones and security, whose world had shattered under their feet. They needed a leader. If Brother Silky played this right, he would soon be Prince Silk Hand of Goat Haven by the decree of Heaven. Mayhap Heaven was starting to right the many wrongs it had done him.