They needed the certainty of voice and face before they scattered. To the balcony of Unuxekome’s house, where the harbor wind already prickled with the end of summer, came Tain Hu and Unuxekome and Baru Fisher. Then, down the river from the north, Duke Oathsfire, the Miller, and Duke Lyxaxu, High Stone. The others were beyond reach. Xate Yawa still played her part as Jurispotence in Treatymont, and Xate Olake wouldn’t break cover to come. Somehow this troubled Baru less than the final absence—the ilykari priestess who’d bound them all together. Baru wanted her presence. A terrible guilt had been rankling her in the night, something worse than the feverish insomniac hunger to think, to know what the Masquerade would do before even they did. A loyalty she’d betrayed. “I thought we’d agreed she would only be the bankroll.” Stout Oathsfire had chopped off most of his beard, perhaps to look younger or more flattering. Chance had betrayed him there—he had an awful cold. “She gives us a few ships and in exchange we let her say she rules us?
What do You think about The Traitor Baru Cormorant?
