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that. Tell me.”
    Solon scratched his cheek. Then he said, “It appears Marco went back on a business deal with them. He cheated them. I’m afraid he is—was—a dealer, Galen. He sold relics to the Watch.”

9
    I have done dark things. Dark and terrible. And I cannot undo them.
    Sorrows of Kest

    C ARYS WINCED.
    Galen exploded into rage. “He does what ?”
    “We must forgive him. He’s a good man.”
    “A good man!” The keeper lashed a chair aside in fury. “Do you tell me we’ve brought such a man here! To Sarres! Half carried him for miles through wood and fen! Dear God, Solon, if I’d known, I’d have put the noose around his neck myself!”
    “No, you wouldn’t,” the Archkeeper said mildly.
    “You don’t know me,” Galen snarled. He strode across the room in wrath. “Men like that are the scum of the world. To steal the gifts of the Makers and sell them for scrap! And you say he’s your friend!”
    “He is.” Solon stood up. “Come, Galen. We are here to help the fallen, even those who have sunk so low they believe in nothing. He needs us. He may not know it, but he does.”
    Galen folded his arms, fighting for control. He took a deep breath, but when he spoke his voice was still acid with bitterness. “No wonder Mardoc chose you if you have kindness even for a wretch like this. I am not so perfect, Archkeeper.”
    “You’ve had a hard struggle. We all have.” Solon came up to him hesitantly. “But he’s here now. And for my sake, Galen, let him stay.”
    Galen looked at him in surprise. “You’re the leader here, not me.”
    “I still ask you.”
    A shrill giggle interrupted them. They looked through the window and saw Marco limp painfully across the lawns, Felnia running in front of him. He sat carefully on a stone seat and gazed around, legs stretched out.
    “For your sake,” Galen said harshly. “But I pray he won’t steal all of Sarres before the end.”
    “You blindfolded him,” Carys pointed out.
    He glared at her. “So I did.”
    “And now . . .” Solon sat down quickly, as if anxious to change the subject. “I have told my story, and someone, please, must tell me yours. I am eaten up with curiosity.” He looked around the table at them contentedly. “I mean, how did you all come here? And if this is truly the island of Artelan’s Dream, how is it uncorrupted? Above all”—he turned to look at Galen, who was still staring darkly out the window—“above all, keeper, how did you break the ice and speak to the trees with such strength? Because I have never seen the like of that in my life.”
    Galen did not turn. He seemed too morose to speak. “We came together in Tasceron,” he said at last, heavy with irony.
    “Tasceron!” Solon’s eyes lit. “You’ve been there? There was a strange rumor going around the cells, that the Crow had risen over Tasceron. Is it true? Did you see it?”
    Raffi and Carys looked at Galen, who turned slowly.
    “No,” he said.
    The room went quiet. Carys saw at once that he wanted to keep the Crow a secret, and she thought he was wise. But Raffi was trying to hide his astonishment, and even the Sekoi’s yellow eyes widened a slit.
    “We brought the girl here,” Galen said.
    Solon looked at Carys.
    “Not me,” she laughed. “Felnia.”
    “The little one? But why?”
    “Because she is the Interrex.” Galen came and sat down.
    Solon stared. “The one spoken of in the Apocalypse? ‘Between the kings the Interrex shall come’? But the Emperor is dead . . .”
    “She’s the Emperor’s granddaughter,” Raffi said quickly. He looked flurried; Carys wondered whether Galen had given him some mental signal to talk, to keep the conversation off the Crow.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.” Raffi rubbed his nose distractedly. “It’s a long story. We found her in a Watchhouse.” He explained, while Carys watched Galen. The keeper looked grim, his black hair pushed back. Through the window he watched Marco, sitting, eyes