abane leaned against Pendaran on the over stuffed couch, his chin nodding to his breast. The boy’s raven hair curled down around his delicate face, the lines of tension and sadness softening as sleep took him. At thirteen, his features were beginning to lose their childish roundness and it was obvious he would grow up to be as strikingly handsome as his father, Rhys.

Pendaran was the boy’s father and sole parent now that his mother, Teleri, was dead. They shared no blood, only a legacy of loss and sorrow. At some point he had become the boy’s master in the magical arts but Pendaran no longer had the ability to use magic and so that job now fell to Mistress Yao. He sighed and put the book he was reading aside with the other six volumes Zhou had assigned to him. His eyes burned behind his spectacles and he yawned, causing Mabane to snap awake.

“You should go to bed, Mab,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” he said, his voice muffled as he burrowed his face into Pendaran’s shoulder. Sighing, Pendaran let the boy rest in his arms for a while. He was of two minds as he sat there feeling awkward and helpless, and yet what else was he supposed to do? The poor kid adored him and it broke Pendaran’s heart to see him so hurt and withdrawn.

“Is Master Bei going to make you fight demons again?”

“I doubt that, my son.”

“But he’s mean to you. And I don’t want you to die.”

He did not want to insult the boy’s intelligence by lying to him. He no longer trusted Zhou and he had done what he could to get him to sever their bond. As it turned out, Zhou had been bluffing when he had threatened to do so.

“We both need sleep, Mab. I’m going to bed now and you need to go as well.”

“Why? You don’t sleep.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Bed. Now.”

Strangely the boy seemed relieved that he had gotten cross. He rose sleepily and went toward his narrow bed on the far side of the room. After tucking the boy in, Pendaran pulled up a chair and sat beside him until he fell asleep which did not take long. The boy was exhausted. Pendaran crossed the room to his own small bed and crawled under the blankets after snuffing out the remaining candle. Just as on all the other nights, he lay alone on his back staring at the shadowed ceiling.

Pain and sorrow awaited him there like a pair of thugs. Until recently he had used sleeping draughts to dull his anguish but Xiang Yi denied him that recourse now, saying it was unhealthy and would damage his liver. Frankly he could care less but he was not at liberty to leave the island and obtain his own. Hard liquor had been his next recourse but he had only managed to drink himself into oblivion once before all such spirits had magically vanished from the places he frequented.

“Gods I hate you, Zhou. Just leave me alone.”

He resisted the urge to revisit his losses and counted his heartbeats instead, quietly seething inside. When would Zhou accept that his ability to focus and use magic was gone for good? Even when he had been a second rate mesmer he could at least sense people around him and was not constantly startled. He could not take much more of this. It all seemed so pointlessly cruel.

“You could take your chances and leave. You’re walking dead now. It might be a relief if someone finished you.”

“And abandon my children? Isn’t there a special place in the underworld for people who do that? If not, there should be.”

He rolled onto his side, swallowing his misery. The last remaining shred of happiness in his life was Sabina, his sweet little daughter who had the good fortune to be ignorant of her mother’s death. The pain lifted a little at the thought of her laughter. He may never find peace again, but he was not about to ruin her chance for joy.

“We’re safe here, this is a good place. Stop worrying. Just relax.”

“Nowhere is safe. Humankind is doomed. Your children will suffer ten times what you have known.”

He snarled an oath, instinctively looking for something to count so that he could drive the sense of impending doom from his mind. He needed something visual, a pattern, something to anchor himself.

There was a rap on the door. Dread shot through him. Late night visits never boded well.

“Peng Ren, open this door immediately,” came Master Bei’s voice in clipped Canthan, “I told you to meet me at the third bell after midnight and you are late.”

He heard Mabane stir and whimper.

“It’s alright, Mab, I’m not going with him.”

“But you get mad if I don’t do what Mistress Yao says.”

Pendaran blinked, taken off guard by the amount of anger in Mabane’s voice.

“You want me to go with Master Bei? I thought you said he was mean to me.”

“He’ll make you able to do magic again and then you can teach me like you’re supposed to. I don’t like Mistress Yao.”

At any other time he might have laughed at Mabane’s reasoning but there was so much anger and hurt behind those words it startled him.

“Peng Ren! Now!” shouted Zhou, sending a shudder of dread down his spine. He heard the Fengs go silent, frightened by the man’s palpable rage.

“No,” Pendaran said without shouting, “I asked to be released.”

“You contemptible coward,” Zhou snarled, “By the gods, I will not shelter a wastrel. Your children deserve a more worthy parent.”

Pendaran swore at him, hating the man for using his children as a lever. Mabane and Sabina were the only reason he was still there. He wanted to rip the man’s eyes out of his skull and kick his head for good measure. In a flash of white rage he threw the door open and balled his fists, determined to pound Zhou to a bloody pulp.

“Do you really wish to strike a mesmer?” Zhou said into his mind, his voice calm yet menacing. It was infuriating having him in his head, not being able to make him leave, not being able to respond in kind.

Pendaran snarled an oath when his attempt to take a swing at Zhou failed and left him stumbling and gasping in pain. He knew better than to try again and he tasted the humiliation he himself had seeded in his foes when magic had answered his call. His inchoate rage cooled into simple loathing.

“Get up,” Zhou said levelly, his voice drained of emotion as he loomed over Pendaran. Mabane was with him, frightened and protective as his narrow arms clamped around his shoulders. He wished he could still speak into Zhou’s mind because he did not want Mabane to hear the vitriol frothing inside of him. It was bad enough that Zhou manipulated Pendaran by threatening the welfare of his children, but to do so in front of Mabane was vile and inexcusable.

“How could you do this to Mabane?” he demanded, somehow managing to avoid expletives. His grasp of Canthan, thanks in no small part to living with the Fengs, was now strong enough that he could swear fluently in two languages.

“Your actions wound Mabane, not mine,” Zhou said coldly, “He needs for you to be an adult.”

He regained his feet and Mabane cleaved to him. Pendaran was glad he could no longer sense the emotions of others. The boy’s miserable weeping was painful enough.

“I’ll go, Mab. I’m sorry you had to see this.”

He gave Mabane a last gentle embrace, annoyed when Hua Feng, the matron of the household, guided the boy away from him at Zhou’s behest.

“Follow,” Zhou said, indicating he would put up with no more protests from Pendaran. He relented, seething in silence as the two of them walked through the silent corridors and headed toward the specially warded chamber Zhou commissioned in memory of Uriel. They crossed the darkened courtyard and approached the heavy door at the base of a wide round tower.

“I forgot, I’m sorry,” Pendaran offered, feeling weak at the sight of approaching doom. Thus far Zhou had been content to have him do simple meditations and reading. The nearest thing approaching a ritual had been the dreaded salt water cleansing on the beach to prove to Pendaran and Zhou that he was not possessed and was, in fact, well protected from such things.

“Do not insult me with your thin lies and excuses.”

“Stop being such an *** to me.”

“Being gentle failed,” Zhou replied as he jammed a glowing key into the lock and drew the door open, “Go.”

Pendaran felt nauseated. He knew that the rite of the third hour was of grief and he had long suspected Zhou would require him to endure it again. When he stepped into the silent chamber, however, it did not smell of incense or have its floor marked with glittering sand. It was stark and empty but for a low table near its center surrounded by a ring of glistening lanterns. A still figure stood behind it swathed in heavy silks, her face concealed behind a mask that was split down its center into a dark and bright side. Her hands were outstretched, palms open and gesturing to two items on the table.

“Choose,” Zhou said behind him.

Pendaran felt the eyes of the masked woman upon him, calm and emotionless. He knew she embodied his matron goddess, Lyssa and he also knew Zhou was reminding him by this gesture that he was one of her champions. One did not reject the gifts of the gods, he knew that and he burned with shame at the reminder. Yet he had never chosen to be so wounded that he could no longer sense with the inner eye. He had never actually rejected Lyssa or her gifts, he was simply too broken to be of use to her.

Her right hand was empty and wrapped in a bloodied bandage. On that side lay a pile of mundane clothes such as a common rogue might wear. There was a tattered sword belt and his old battered rapier. His eyes fell upon the ritual pair of daggers, assassin’s knives crossed beneath it, but he also knew they were far from mundane. On the dark side, the woman’s open palm was painted with the image of the inner eye and there lay a bed of fine clothes upon which a silvery mask gleamed in the lantern light.

“Common man or a mesmer,” Pendaran said, “I have already given you my answer.”

“The path you take tonight before the goddess is binding and cannot be abandoned. Before Lyssa and your Master, state your choice and it will be done.”

He momentarily met the eyes of the mysterious woman behind the mask and winced, hating the pity he saw there as he looked away. Instead his eyes fell upon the silvery mask so exquisite and cold with its faint tracery of golden inlay. He had never seen such a mask before. It concealed the wearer’s face completely and bore only one opening below the nose for breathing. Its eyes were absent, smooth depressions of seamless metal. Its closed lips bore an enigmatic smile.

“Am I allowed to ask about my choices before I make one?”

“Yes.”

“If I choose the right, what is the meaning of the daggers?”

“We will perform a ritual to sever our Lyssan bond.”

Pendaran closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus and not count the golden threads on the gown of the goddess.

“And I assume the clothes and the rapier will be my new garb?”

“Sufficient for you to leave the island and find your own way.”

“My children…”

“I will provide for your children. They will want for nothing. You will be freed from the responsibility of caring for them.”

“I’d be killed if I went out there as I am now.”

“Yes, that is a possibility. However, since you have kindly alerted me to the state of the guild’s monetary situation, I cannot afford to keep people here who do not contribute in a significant way to the life of the guild.”

“I could be an accountant, I could do labor…”

“If you reject our bond, I will not have you on this island. It will mark you as an honorless fool in my eyes and I do not tolerate such on my staff let alone in my guild. The choices you see before you are the only two available to you at this moment.”

“You heartless…”

“Stop, Pendaran. If I were heartless, I would let you lose your self-respect and dignity. You fought bravely and overcame incredible hardships to be here. I do this out of love.”

“This is manipulative! Of course I’m not going to abandon my children. You know that!”

“Abandoning yourself is abandoning them.”

He swallowed despite his mouth being desert dry. The eyeless mask filled him with horror. Did Zhou seriously want him to wear that? Did he want him to feel even more powerless and broken inside?

“I do not wish for you to suffer, Pendaran. The mask was given to me by my master and now I yield it to you. It was the kindest thing he did for me.”

“Why?” Pendaran rasped, his voice reduced to a faint whisper.

“I believe you know why, or will very soon.”

“How long do I have to endure it?”

“For as long as it is needed.”

“Do not ask this of me, I cannot do it.”

“I believe you are capable of whatever you wish to accomplish.”

Anger gave way to grief. He had lost so much and all he wanted was a little peace and security. Was it too much to ask that he be left alone?

“Maybe it is better if I just leave. I cannot speak to you as I once did and magic no longer rises to my call. I am a waste of your time.”

“If that proves to be true, I will provide for you to dwell in dignity and comfort in whatever role you choose.”

Pendaran gazed upon the silent figure of Lyssa. What must she think of him whimpering and frightened like a child? Her dark eyes regarded him with beatific calm, but he detected no pity now.

“I choose the way of the Inner Eye and the Shadowed Path.”

“I receive my champion,” the woman replied.

He knelt as the priestess approached and granted him the twofold kiss of inspiration and insight, once each upon his closed eyes. He remained kneeling as Zhou drew the velvety darkness of the mask over his face and it melded softly with his flesh, its enchantment taking hold. A profound silence fell over his mind. In that blackness he reached out instinctively for his master and sensed him; a comfort too long denied over the long weeks of torment and deprivation.

“I’ve missed you,” Zhou said into his mind.

“Gods, no, my heart will break. Let me go.”

“If it breaks, it will be mended. I will not abandon you and you are no longer alone.”

He trembled with emotion, at once elated and horrified as sensations he had thought long dead flooded his mind. He sensed the golden shimmer of the priestess before him chanting prayers for his wellbeing, gifting him with blessings as he donned the new robes of his station. And when she was done, Zhou guided him gently to his feet and gave him his arm, his love and concern for Pendaran no longer in doubt.

“Now you will serve me as I once did my master, as my advisor and guardian. But first you shall rest as you have not for a very long time. I will take you to your new room. If you have need of anything, you may reach out to me and request it, otherwise someone will be with you at all times while you are masked.”

“But my children…”

“They are in good hands, Peng Ren. I will make provision for you to see them during meals and at need.”

He nodded, surrendering at last. He had made his choice and now he must be at peace with it.