Ardasa quieted. This was not a man who wanted to socialize. Was Xigyll's reputation so horrible, that even its allies cannot hide their revulsion? Was it Ternoc's blindness that keeps him critical and distant, or her own? The soup was thick and creamy, the lamb fat and hearty, but she was unsatisfied.

The night, inevitably, wound down. The sunset sky changed from its vibrant pinks and golds to a deep purple, which was eventually swallowed by the merry light of the burning torches. She doesn't think she has said a word since Ternoc's earlier rebuke. She was trapped in her own mind, thinking back to the two stories, playing them in her mind again and again. How could both legends be true, while completely opposing each other? She lived her entire life taking Aunt Sasak's word as it was said, but was the old storyteller lying, misinformed, or does the fault lie in the dracon scribes?

"It seems to be getting late. I intend to return to Xigyll come the morning. I'll call it a triumph of good spirit over evil, if you would agree. We both need a triumph, I think, tonight of all nights. Would you be so kind as to show me to my sleeping quarters tonight?" Ardasa said, hopping off of her chair. The ground seemed further away than she remembered it.