They languished in that prison for days. Weeks. A year, perhaps. Sarka knew it must be so. Her reason convinced her that it could not be true, because she lived on, although they were given no food and no water-but with no sense of time passing, with no windows to see the sun, every second was minute, every minute an hour, every hour a day.

She felt like she was starving, like she was being driven mad with thirst. But she lived, and so did Konn, and so did Ro.

Sarka was crouched in the corner of her cell when the door creaked open. She looked up, cold with shock, and saw the transparent figure of a familiar Beloved: Caol. His smile was a knife.

"Justice. It did not take so long, after all," he said. "For standing against Tayo and his oathbreakers, I won my way back into my lady's presence. It will give me great pleasure to see her punish you as you so justly deserve."

"Sarka."

Through him, Sarka could see Ro standing at the door of his cell, grasping the bars. When the ash-walker said her name in his low voice, a curious feeling came upon her, something like peace and fear all wrapped into one. She pushed the distraction away.

"It's all right, Ro," she said, turning her attention back to Caol. "I suppose this is the part where we go before our queen and confess our sins, so on and so forth?"

Caol narrowed his eyes and hissed, "Ssstand." He turned and pointed to Ro's cell door, then Konn's. "Open them."

At his command, several other Beloved came to unlock the men's cell doors, and Konn and Ro were taken. Caol seized Sarka's arm none-too-gently and guided her out of her cell toward the mouth of the prison, a self-satisfied smile on his face all the while.Sarka, who had nearly been killed by more than one of these creatures, wished fervently that she could fight him. She wanted to slap him, but she knew that her hand would pass right through his smug face.

The Beloved led them back up onto the main level of the palace and through hall after dilapidated hall until, finally, they came upon an antechamber not unlike the one where they had awaited Lady Deyna's pleasure. In Lady Deyna's palace, though, the chamber had been sickeningly opulent. Here, in Kogoren's Bone Palace, the paintings were cracked and faded, the upholstered chairs had rotted, and the only ornament to be seen was a human skull on a spike soaked with old blood, black as tar.

"Charming," Ro muttered.

Sarka was seized with the insane desire to laugh. Tears of mingled horror and mirth sprang to her eyes. She lowered her head, feeling Caol's hand close like a vice around her wrist. One of the Beloved escorting Ro cuffed him.

"Let him be!" Sarka pulled against Caol's hold, blinking away the tears.

"Laugh while you can. Cry while you can," Caol said. "Soon you will feel nothing but pain."

Konn was strangely silent. When Sarka stole a glance at him, she saw his weathered features creased, as if he were deep in thought. He looked at her, and, upon meeting her gaze, he instantly lowered his own.

"Konn-" Sarka began, but at that instant, the doors separating them from their fate swung open.

Kogoren's audience hall was as full of cobwebs and the signs of decay as Deyna's had been with gems and velvet. The place was empty of courtiers; only the Beloved attended upon Kogoren, their queen-a legion of immortal boys. On a dais at the front of the long hall stood the goddess herself. She was emaciated; her gown hung off of her figure as if it had been made for a different woman. It was sumptuously embroidered in the old Kogorian style, as were the trousers worn by her attendants, but the garment was threadbare and faded. She wore a high and heavy crown carved of bone

Lady Kogoren's cadaverous face turned toward Sarka and the others as they stepped into her presence. She waited as her servants led them toward her. When at last the three prisoners were presented to her, Kogoren's flat, serpentine gaze fell upon Konn. "You."

The priest dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and clasped his hands together before his breast. He was openly weeping. "My lady."

"You turned from me."

"My lady, no," said Konn. "In your righteous anger, you rained fire from the heavens and split the earth. I was searching for the wayward boy, the renegade, and I was lost to sea. By the time I saw that you had brought our rightful punishment upon us, there was no turning back."

"You fell upon the feet of another god."

"I had no choice. I was lost and friendless, and I thought myself gone from your graces forever. My lady, forgive me."

"You deserve no mercy." Kogoren raised one of her skeletal hands, spreading her fingers.

"Lady Kogoren."

Sarka's heart thumped in painful shock. She turned to see Lord Atai standing on one side of the chamber, where he had not been before. Lord Daros stood beside him.. Seeing Lord Atai after spending what had felt like an eternity in Kogoren's dungeon was strange. She felt a mixture of relief and resentment.

Atai and Daros were surrounded by the Beloved in an instant. Atai calmly ignored them, holding his head aloft as another god so challenged by enemies might hold up a holy scepter.

Kogoren had heard him, too; she turned her sharp face and snarled. "You are not welcome in my hall! Lord Daros, you were to hold him until all this is done!"

"And so I hold him," said Lord Daros, who was, indeed, holding onto Lord Atai's arm. "He would not stop his whining, Lady Kogoren. A man can only take so much."

"I come in peace," said Atai. "Lady Kogoren, you are not known for your mercy, but these folk are my children-"

"They are mine!"

"-my children, as much as they are yours. Perhaps not by the laws of gods and men, but in my heart. I ask you, one deity to another: show me this kindness and let me stand witness to how you might punish them. My conscience will not support my absence, my lady. Please."

Sarka looked desperately between Kogoren and Atai. He had challenged her, but softly. Could he be here to protect them? Would he defend Sarka and Ro and Konn, protect them from the Mother of Ashes? Not with Daros there at his side. The God of Valor had a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Very well. Witness what your mercy and your kindness has bought your little sheep," said Kogoren, and her grin was vicious and cold. She returned her attention to Konn. "And now, turncoat priest, your punishment. For forsaking your vows and breaking your loyalty to me, I shall banish you to the realm beyond realms-"

"Then you are a fool." This was Atai again.

His statement was punctuated with the hiss of a blade being drawn. Daros had released Atai's arm and now stood with his sword in his hands. Sarka wondered if it was the famous Talastar, the same sword that had relieved Atai of his head. "Atai," said Daros, a warning note in his voice. "I brought you here to watch, not to participate."

Kogoren turned her regal head to look at Atai as if he were no more significant than an insect to be crushed beneath her shoe. She raised her hand, a small, yet commanding gesture, and Daros lowered his sword a fraction. Kogoren said, "How dare you speak thus to me, you who have harbored fugitives from my justice. You, the weakest of the gods. You stand in my palace now, God of of the Hopeless, and your human playthings are indeed without hope."

"Do what you will," said Atai. He shrugged one shoulder and lowered his gaze, as if defeated.

Kogoren was suspicious now. "Tell me why you challenge me."

"You're about to send your only remaining priest to the realm beyond realms. Who then will renew your God-Song, Mother of Ashes? Say what you will. Perhaps I do speak out of love for this man. He has served me well. I certainly do not wish to see your reign of terror extended. But Konn is the only soul living who can renew your God-Song and thereby extend your life. In this one instance it would serve you well to show mercy."

Konn looked up, meeting Atai's gaze for a moment. Something Sarka could not read passed between them in that glance and then was gone. It didn't matter; she did not have the energy to make sense of it now. Her heart had crumbled. Her hope had gone. There was nothing left now but to die. What difference did it make to her if Konn lived or went with her?

"There are more men, and I can make of them more priests at my leisure," said Kogoren.

Atai laughed. The warmth in that laugh, the genuine humor, rankled Sarka. How could he laugh at a time like this?

Kogoren's response was a wordless hiss of fury.

"I apologize, my lady, but I realize that you have long been separated from the world of men and you may not fully realize how things are in the land you once ruled. The people there despise you. They are eager for you to fade from existence and thence from memory. There is not a soul on the continent of Kogoren who would bind himself into your service. The only person left who bears you any regard is this man here." Atai gestured at Konn with his free hand. "Sarka, do I not speak the truth?"

The goddess turned those dark eyes on Sarka now, hungry and watchful. Sarka sensed something desperate in that endless gaze: she wanted to believe that her children still loved her, despite all she had done to punish them for sins that they had not committed. "Sssarka. Speak," she said, her voice echoing in the cavernous chamber.

Now Sarka knew why Atai had laughed. That Kogoren could even ask such a question was wildly humorous. She snorted, put her hand over her eyes, and laughed as well.

Kogoren's fury was a tangible sensation; it rolled off the goddess's spectral form, chilling Sarka down to her very marrow and causing her hair to stand on end. "You dare to laugh at me?" the goddess said.

"The people use your name as a curse," Sarka said. "Or as a terrible story to scare their children. They fear you. They despise you. You ruined our land and left us to starve. Lord Atai is right: there is not a soul in my homeland that would even consider renewing that book of yours. We'll all be glad to see you die. I am only sad that I will not live to see that day. They will hear the cheers of gladness all the way in Galdren."

A sad smile curved Atai's lips, and he raised a brow at Kogoren, as if to say, Well? Do not take my word for it. Take hers.

Kogoren rounded on Konn, and behind her, her shadow flickered and arched on the wall like that of a venomous snake. "Konn."

The priest was already on his knees; now, he placed his hands on the floor and lowered his head even farther, until his wrinkled brow touched the stones. His voice was a subservient murmur: "My lady."

Sarka's humor drained away as quickly as it had come. She felt sick watching him.

"You will be suffered to live, despite your sins. And in exchange, you will renew my God-Song. A new dawn is upon us. When I extend my hand of mercy toward the children who betrayed me, I will renew in them the fire of their faith, the depths of their love for me. And when that day comes, you will instruct a new generation of my priests."

"As you wish, my lady."

Triumph curled Kogoren's thin mouth. She beckoned with two fingers and at once, a pair of the Beloved came forward bearing Kogoren's God-Song between them. It was a heavy book, bound in dark leather, the corners reinforced with ornaments carven of bone.

The Beloved offered the book to Konn who, rising, took it into his arms as carefully as if it were a newborn babe. He cradled it to his chest and bowed deeply, backing away from Kogoren. Sarka followed his figure with her gaze until he melted into the shadows between two columns at the side of the audience hall.