‘I hate this. I hate this all.’

‘I know.’

‘When will they stop pretending?’

‘Why would they?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If they admitted they were lying all this time, how could they ever regain the trust of the others?’

‘And ours?’

‘They already have ours. Vardille yours, Sallan mine.’

‘Sallan, Froshta hjedlír! Of course!’

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‘Calm down, Mjel. See it as it is: they put their trust into us.’

‘Why wouldn’t you tell me what the old man told you?’

‘He’s not actually that old. A few years younger than Sagramir himself.’

‘Yes, I’ve figured. That and much more.’

‘The reason I’m not telling you what he said to me is the same reason you don’t tell me what Vardille said to you.’

‘You’ve figured that out already. Sooner than me.’

‘So what? You’ve also figured out Sallan’s story.’

‘Then why don’t we talk about it?’

‘Because it has no use. It’s a truth untold. But a truth all four of us know.’

‘I’m not used to these power games, Ida.’

‘You must be. Swinging their hammer is not a Warchief’s only task.’

‘I figured. I just… wish it was over, you know?’

‘I know. Me too, Mjel. Me too.’