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PROLOGUE

THE DISSOLUTION OF any htly undertaken Even the ht of House Tacsis, whose line was born of emperors, may not suffice

Lano Tacsis caarbed for war, his arht of a thousand criuard, the iron core of the Tacsis ared by his father Soldiers tempered in battles upon the empire’s eastern borders and in the west upon the beaches of the Marn

But Lano’s confidence rested on more than the spears of his arht froode

When a child is given to the Noi-Guin it is sacrificed to the dark So but the adult who then descends the fortress walls on a ht a decade and more later will be a different person They will have been cut free of any allegiance to parent or sibling, pruned from the Ancestor’s tree They will be Noi-Guin—instruion, dedicated only to the task they have been given The richest a the Sis may purchase their services but few ode None living reether Even the oldest stories never speak of ht walked with Lano Tacsis the day he came to the convent that stood upon the Rock of Faith

“Nona Grey? You’re sure?” Lano raised his visor to squint at the dark figure standing alone in the path of his arereturned to Sweet Mercy” Fist s “Oh this is perfect! I feared she had gone despite lance to his left “It’s her, you’re sure?”

Clera Ghomal lifted her dark eyes to hio?”

• • •

SISTER CAGE WAITED, shadowless a novices watched from within the stone forest behind her When the Tacsis cahting her own battle so to save Sister Thorn fro She could have killed her in a moment But she didn’t At least there was that

The sword Cage held offered its sharpness to the world, and the Corridor wind, divided by its edge, hissed in pain Cage’s sister had waited for her battle, hunting her centre, seeking silence and stillness while the Pelarthi advanced Few Red Sisters had ever left the Convent of Sweet Mercy better able than Sister Thorn to practise what the ht them

Sister Cage walked to a different beat

The holy disdain anger, for what faith is not, at its core, about acceptance of things you cannot change? The wise call wrath unwise for few truths are to be found there Those who rule us sta it for the fire that it is, and who invites such hungry fla that which they possess?

To Sister Cage though, fury was a weapon She opened herself to the anger she had held at bay Her friend lay dying Her friend There is a purity in rage It will burn out sorrow For a time It will burn out fear Even cruelty and hatred will seek shelter, rage wants none of theives to us, shaped by untold years Why discard it?

Every law of church or state seeks to separate you froer Every rule is there to tame you—to take from your hands that which you should own Every stricture airasp of courts, juries, justice and judges Books of law look to replace what you know to be right with lines of ink Prisons and executioners stand only to keep your hands froed you Every part of it exists to put time and distance between deed and consequence To lift us froe and tame the beast

Sister Cage watched her eneht in steel upon the Rock

Hers the anger of an ocean wave rolling over deep waters to spend its white fury against the shore, one and then the next, relentless, tearing down high cliffs, pounding rocks to pebbles, grinding pebbles to sand, and thus are mountains laid low Hers the stor, blown on a wind that rips the oldest trees froround Hers the defiance of stone, raised in outrage against cold skies Hers the anger that sits like broken glass within a chest, the anger that will allow no sleep, no retreat, no compromise