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of pagan worship. R’shiel had learnt to recite the Daily Affirmation as a small child, and knew well the punishment for not joining in enthusiastically. Harith’s cane was accurate and painful. The only benefit of being ordered to attend this reception that R’shiel could think of was that she had been exempted from attending the Affirmation.
    The Lesser Hall was lit with hundreds of candles against the inevitable Dimming, although the walls had only just begun to lose their radiance. It was about half the size of the Great Hall, which meant it could still accommodate five hundred people comfortably. The domed ceiling, supported by tall,elegantly fluted columns, was painted a stark white—no doubt to cover the licentious heathen artwork underneath. The walls were white, like all the walls in the Citadel, and were made of the strange, impervious material that glowed and dimmed, with the reliability of a Defender’s Oath. R’shiel glanced around and spied Joyhinia talking to Sister Jacomina and the Karien Envoy on the far side of the Hall as she edged her way along the wall. With luck, she would be able to convince her mother she had been here on time. R’shiel rarely defied her mother openly—she was not that foolish—but she was adept at walking the fine line between compliance and defiance.
    Joyhinia looked up and caught sight of her with a frown. R’shiel gave up trying to hide and decided to brazen it out. She squared her shoulders and walked purposefully through the gathered Sisters and Defenders to greet her mother.
    “Mother,” R’shiel said with a respectful curtsy as she reached Joyhinia and her companions. “Please forgive me for being so late. I was helping one of my classmates with her studies. I fear I lost track of time.”
    Better that, than Joyhinia learn she was late because Georj Drake had been teaching her the finer points of knife throwing. R’shiel couldn’t ever imagine having a need to use such a skill, but it was such an unladylike pastime that she couldn’t resist the offer to learn. R’shiel sometimes worried about her tendency to do things that would deliberately provoke Joyhinia.
    Her mother saw through the lie, but accepted it. “I hope your classmate appreciated your sacrifice.”R’shiel knew that slightly sarcastic tone from long experience. Her mother turned to the Envoy and said, “Sir Pieter, I would like to introduce my daughter, R’shiel.”
    R’shiel dutifully curtsied to the Envoy. He was a solid man with lazy brown eyes and the weary air of a jaded aristocrat. He took her hand in his, kissing the air above it. His ceremonial armour creaked metallically as he bowed to her.
    “A charming child,” he said, looking her up and down, making her feel rather uncomfortable. “And a noteworthy student, so your mother informs me.”
    “I try my hardest to honour my mother’s faith in me, my Lord,” she replied, thinking that was almost as big a lie as her excuse for being late.
    “Respectful and charming,” Lord Pieter said with an approving nod. “No doubt she will follow in your footsteps one day, Sister Joyhinia. The Quorum will soon benefit from two generations of Tenragan women, I suspect.”
    “R’shiel will choose her own path, my Lord. I want nothing more for my daughter than her happiness.”
    R’shiel didn’t bother to contradict her. She had less say in her future than the average Hythrun slave, who at least had the advantage of knowing he was a slave.
    “You must be gratified to know that you have such dedicated students awaiting you in your new post,” the Envoy remarked to Jacomina.
    The new Mistress of Enlightenment nodded sombrely, although the look she gave R’shiel was far from enthusiastic. Jacomina might use many words todescribe R’shiel, but “dedicated” was unlikely to be one of them.
    R’shiel had thought it odd that her mother had taken Mahina’s promotion to First Sister so well, until she learnt who had been appointed to fill