“Ember.”
She whirled to find Barrow standing behind her. Fighting the impulse to embrace him, she let her fingers brush over his before letting her hand drop to her side.
His smile was fleeting. “I’m sorry . . .” His words trailed off, but she knew he couldn’t say more.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He joined her in the small circle, standing close enough that their arms touched.
Lukasz, who’d been speaking quietly with Father Michael and Thomas, looked over the group and nodded.
“This completes our number.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We are few, but I can’t claim surprise at that.”
A weasel-faced knight, who Ember remembered was named Fitch, asked, “Are the rumors true?”
“I am sorry to say that they are,” Lukasz answered, looking around at the huddled group. “You are here because you came to me after Eira visited you with promises of power, of a new hierarchy in Conatus.”
While the people around her nodded, Ember frowned. When Lukasz saw her furrowed brow, he smiled and said quietly, “Or you are here because someone I trust believed you to be incorruptible.”
Ember felt Barrow’s hand rest on the small of her back. She nodded at the commander, but her head was spinning.
Promises of power. A new order. Alistair had come to her tonight, speaking of Eira’s greatness. I want you to understand how much I trust her.
He wanted me to join them, Ember thought as bile rose in her throat. Did he know what Eira planned for Sorcha? Did he do nothing to stop it?
“You promised a witness to back up your words, Commander.” Fitch cast a suspicious glance around the dimly lit circle. “Where is he? I want to follow you, but I need proof.”
“Lora.” Lukasz beckoned someone from the darkness of what Ember had thought was an empty stall.
The cleric who summoned sparring partners from the clay appeared, supporting a rickety man whose eyes were wild with fear.
“You said you’d protect me.” He clung to Lora.
“These are friends, Goodman Sawyer,” Lora said gently. “None here will offer you harm.”
“You don’t know, you don’t know.” Sawyer’s limbs shook. “They all turn. They all choose him.”
“Who is this man?” Barrow asked Lukasz.
“A servant of Abbot Crichton,” the commander told him. “He arrived at the keep yesterday and Lora was the first to speak with him. She had the good sense to keep him hidden.”
“Hidden from whom?” Fitch asked.
“My fellows in the Circle,” Thomas told him. “I am afraid they cannot be trusted.”
Restless shuffles stirred the group.
“What do you mean, the Circle can’t be trusted?” the knight called Mercer asked.
Father Michael raised the lantern so its light rained down on his head. “A great evil has come upon us. A darkness that corrupts the very core of our order.”
Lukasz nodded, gesturing to Sawyer. “This servant brings a tale of woe from the abbot’s estate.”
Mercer snickered. “Since when is woe for the abbot woe for us?”
“In this case the abbot’s downfall could very well be our own.” The commander didn’t smile.
“What’s happened, Lukasz?” Barrow frowned at him. “What has befallen the abbot?”
“Tell them, Sawyer.” Lora nudged the shuddering man.
Sawyer’s eyes roved over the group as he spoke. “I was there when they came. The lady Eira and the strange man.”
Ember’s breath became shallow. Barrow took her hands in his, hiding their clasped fingers in the folds of his cloak.
“They met privately with my master,” Sawyer said. “But soon the abbot’s screams filled the halls of the manor and spilled out into the gardens. We all heard him crying for mercy. He found none.”
“Who caused the abbot’s torment?” Lukasz asked, though the set of his jaw suggested he already knew the answer.
Sawyer’s mouth quivered. “H-h-him. We didn’t know what they were. The things he called to his service. The monsters. The shadows.”
“The shadow creatures?” Barrow asked with alarm. “The same beasts that attacked the village?”
“So it would seem,” Thomas answered quietly.
“And Eira was there?” Fitch’s hand was on his sword hilt, as if he expected an attack at any moment. “She went to the abbot and no one knew of it?”
“We knew nothing before Sawyer arrived,” Lukasz said. “Go on with your tale, goodman.”
“They slaughtered the soldiers who tried to help the abbot,” Sawyer said, half sobbing. “They are invincible! No weapon can harm these demons.”
“Do you believe they truly are demons?” Father Michael asked.
Sawyer nodded. “They serve their master, who is but the devil. What other creature could manifest such evil things at will?”
“What happened next?” Mercer’s brow knit together. “After the soldiers were killed.”
“There were a few left who surrendered.” Sawyer drew a shaking breath. “Eira offered amnesty to any who swore their allegiance to her and to the stranger.”
“Does he have a name? This stranger?” Barrow asked.
“His name is Lord Mar,” Sawyer said. “Lord Bosque Mar.”
“Is this demon known?” Mercer turned to Father Michael.
The priest shook his head. “I have never heard this name. Nor of any being who can call up demons in such number and with such powers.”
Barrow drew a sharp breath. “And Eira was a witness to all of this?”
Sawyer’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They say she delighted in the abbot’s pain . . . They say she laughed.”
“What of the abbot?” Fitch demanded. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Sawyer told him. “He is a prisoner in his own home. At Eira’s orders he signs what letters and documents she wills, and if he resists, the stranger brings his demons to torment the abbot further.”
“This is our doom,” Fitch murmured. “By her own will Eira let Sorcha burn . . . She will destroy us.”
“Hush,” Lora said as Sawyer wrung his hands and wept.
“And how can we trust this man?” Mercer glared at her. “What if he’s come to us with this story only to elicit our own allegiances? He could give all our names to Eira.”