strands of liquid, living fire. Her face was so terrible in its beauty that Anne felt as if icicles had been driven through her eyes and deep into her brain. She screamed so loudly, she felt her throat was tearing.
“Hush,” the woman said, and Anne felt her larynx instantly close. Then the horrible gaze went through and beyond her.
“Leave,” she commanded.
“You only delay the inevitable,” the male voice muttered.
“Leave,” the woman repeated.
Anne felt the weight of him lessen.
“I didn’t kill your friends,” he said, and was gone.
Anne felt the woman’s gaze on her but could not look up.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“The Kept gave you my true name,” the woman replied. “He gave you some of my old epithets—Queen of Demons, and so on.”
“Yes. But I don’t…” She trailed off in confusion.
“You wonder rather
what
I am. What I want. Why I’ve helped you.”
“I guess so,” Anne said weakly, feeling suddenly presumptuous.
“Am I demon or saint?” the woman sighed, so close that Anne could feel her breath.
“Yes,” Anne barely managed.
“If there were a difference, perhaps I could tell you,” she replied.
“And the man…”
“He’s quite right, you know,” the woman went on. “He didn’t kill the Faiths. I did. For you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You led me to them. You rejected them, withdrew your protection, and I ended their existence. All but the one, and I shall find her.”
“But why?”
“You don’t need them,” she said. “You never did. They were poor councillors. And now you have me.”
“I don’t want you,” Anne protested.
“Then say my name. Tell me to leave.”
Anne swallowed.
“You won’t,” the woman said. “You need my help. You need all the help you can get, because
he
will come for you and will either make you his or destroy you. Which means you must destroy him. And that you cannot currently do. Your friends will fall first, then you.”
“And if I believe you, how can I stop that?”
“Strengthen yourself every way you can. Let me teach you the ways of your power. When he comes, you will be ready, if you trust me.”
“Trust you,” Anne murmured, finally lifting her gaze to the woman’s face.
This time it wasn’t so terrifying. There was something in the set of the woman’s eyes that seemed truthful.
“Give me a reason to trust you,” Anne said.
A smile slit the woman’s face. “You have another enemy, one you haven’t noticed yet, one that even I have difficulty seeing, for he—or perhaps she—sits deep in the shadows of the Reiksbaurg Palace. Like you, he is able to look across leagues and through time. Haven’t you wondered why you manage to surprise the forces of the Church but Hansa is always one step ahead of you?”
“Yes,” Anne replied. “I assumed spies and traitors were involved. How can you be certain it’s shinecraft?”
“Because there is a place I can never see, and that is the sign of a Hellrune,” the woman replied.
“A Hellrune?”
“A Hellrune sees through the eyes of the dead, who do not know past from present. Because the law of death has been broken, that is an even more powerful gift than it once was. But you get your visions directly through the sedos power. You can be stronger: See the consequences of his visions and act against them. In time, you will even be able to command the dead to give him false visions. But before you achieve that mastery, he can do much harm. If you act as I say, you may stop him sooner.”
“How is that?”
“Send an embassy to Hansa, to the court of Marcomir. Send your mother, Neil MeqVren, Alis Berrye—”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Anne snapped. “I just got my mother back; I won’t send her into danger.”
“Do you think she isn’t in danger in Eslen? Try to dream about that. I promise you that you will not like what visions come.”
A sick dismay was starting to grip Anne, but she tried to stay strong. “You’re