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felt an unwilling ripple of sympathy for the younger man. Being forced to restrict his use of the art was hard for any wizard; renouncing it entirely, even if only temporarily, as Sahrdohr’s role had required him to do, was the next best thing to intolerable. All questions of power and ambition aside, there was a splendor to the art, a glory no wizard could truly resist. He had to reach out to it, for better or for worse, and Sahrdohr had been denied the chance to do that for over four years, ever since his own arrival here in Sothōfalas. No wonder he was feeling impatient.
    “If you’ve read the reports, Malahk,” the older wizard said after a moment, “then you know I’m the only one of the senior agents originally assigned to this operation who’s still alive. Salgahn here and I did our jobs just about perfectly, and I still barely got away with my skin. Jerghar and Paratha were less fortunate, and Farrier is...still laboring under the Spider’s disapproval, shall we say?”
    He grimaced at the thought of how the Twisted One had chosen to express Her unhappiness with Dahlaha Farrier. He’d never liked the woman, but seeing what had happened to her made him uncomfortably aware of what could happen to him . And that was with Shīgū’s decision to be “lenient” with the servant who’d failed Her.
    “Worse,” he continued, “our last little escapade almost certainly warned the other side—Wencit, at the very least—that we’ve become far more interested in the Sothōii than we ever were before. Don’t you think it makes sense to proceed with a modicum of caution when all of that is true?”
    “Caution, yes,” Sahrdohr agreed. “But we can’t afford to allow ourselves to be paralyzed, either. Especially not if we really are coming up on one of the cusp points.”
    “And would you happen to know why it’s a cusp point?” Varnaythus asked mildly, extending his thumbs and tapping them together. He raised both eyebrows and cocked his head, and Sahrdohr looked back with a stubborn expression for several seconds. Then the younger man shrugged irritably.
    “No,” he said shortly.
    “Neither do I,” Varnaythus told him. It was Sahrdohr’s eyebrows’ turn to shoot upward and his eyes widened with surprise. Surprise that turned into skepticism almost instantly, Varnaythus noticed.
    “I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “I realize that’s a novel approach, but we’re in rather an unusual situation here. They haven’t told me why They want us to do what They want us to do. All They’ve told me is what They want us to do. Now, to me that suggests this may be even more important than They’re prepared to admit even to us. Either that or They don’t know everything that’s involved here. Either way, there’s no way I’m going to rush in and blow this operation a second time. Is that understood?”
    Sahrdohr gazed at him for at least a minute. Then he nodded slowly, and Varnaythus nodded back just a bit more emphatically. Both of them understood the subtext of what Varnaythus had just said. He’d avoided the Dark Gods’ displeasure because unlike his deceased associates, he’d carried out his own portion of the operation almost flawlessly. Perhaps even more importantly, he’d covered his backside by carefully sending very complete reports—including reports of the several times he’d warned those associates that things were slipping—back to Kontovar. Coupled with the years of successful service he’d given to Carnadosa, that had sufficed to protect him from divine wrath. It was unusual for one of the Dark Gods’ minions to survive the failure of a single mission remotely this important, however; it was unheard of for one of them to survive a second failure.
    Varnaythus understood that, and he had no intention of failing, yet he wished passionately that his mistress had explained more about the reasons for this operation. What he’d said to Sahrdohr was nothing but the truth, and