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a copy of it – by which the law of confession had been restricted to treason and the death penalty removed from property crimes.
    â€œYou glorified me on the day that this was writ, son of Eben,” the Master told him. “In glorifying me you earned my love.” With a laugh Edelred turned his grey eyes from the parchment to Eamon’s face. He laid his hand on Eamon’s cheek. “It is in your blood. More than any of them, son of Eben,” he said, his voice a fervent whisper, “you will glorify me.”
    Eamon bowed down low. “Yes, Master.”
    Edelred withdrew his touch and walked back through the vaults. Quivering, Eamon turned from the wall of the Right Hands and followed him.
    He kept his gaze fixed on the floor – he could scarcely bear the rooms which, in their grim and golden expanses, crushed and swallowed him. They had almost reached the doors leading out of the pageant of chambers when Eamon half-tripped. As he recovered, something on a distant wall caught his attention.
    A painting. It had faded and its frame was worn with time, but Eamon dimly made out its content: a river running through a quiet, green valley. The river sparked blue and the valley was detailed with exquisite flowers.
    Amid the red and gold, the trophies and the jewels, the dulled painting seemed otherworldly. Eamon stared at it.
    Edelred’s voice broke him from his stupor. “That work strikes you, son of Eben?”
    Eamon turned. The Master had looked back to him and watched him. Fearfully, Eamon bowed.
    â€œYes,” he answered.
    â€œIt was a gift.” Edelred’s voice seemed strange as he spoke– pained almost. Eamon rose. For the smallest of moments, the Master’s face was marked with wistful remembrance.
    The moment passed. “Come, son of Eben.”
    Eamon obeyed.
    Relieved to leave the choking vaults, Eamon staggered into the dining room, gulping air. The table in the room had been cleared and the servants were gone; the doorkeeper stood by the entrance to the gallery of trees.
    Eamon bowed low to Edelred. “I do not deserve what you bestow upon me,” he said. “I thank you, Master.”
    â€œAnd you delight me.” Edelred smiled at him. “You shall eat with me every morning, son of Eben.”
    The words were crushing. Doubled over in his bow, Eamon forced speech to his trembling lips.
    â€œTo your glory.”

C HAPTER IV
    Eamon passed much of the rest of that day familiarizing himself with the palace, learning his way between the Master’s rooms and his own, and where he might find his servants. He tried to keep himself from thinking about the vault that he had seen and the power that it held.
    That afternoon he went to inspect the failing south wall and to give recommendation and authorization for its repair. He also spoke to the officers who had received the survivors of the East Quarter column, but they knew little. Eamon resolved to seek out the survivors themselves in the East Quarter if he could.
    As he returned from the South Quarter, he met Cathair riding along the Coll. He would happily have avoided the man – but Cathair had never been one to afford his prey easy escape.
    â€œLord Goodman! Good day to you!”
    â€œWelcome back, Lord Cathair,” Eamon answered. “All was well at Ravensill, I trust?”
    â€œIndeed,” Cathair answered with a smile.
    â€œI am glad. Forgive me,” Eamon began, “but I cannot stay. I have business to attend –”
    Cathair pulled a disappointed face. “Such business that would keep you from riding with me on such a day?”
    â€œEven so,” Eamon answered.
    â€œOh, but it cannot be!” came the melodramatic outcry.
    â€œI fear it is.”
    Cathair smiled sadly. “Well, my lord, I must then leave you to tend to your misfortunes, whilst I tend to mine.”
    Eamon looked at him curiously. “Have you had misfortunes, Lord