Aide raised her eyes to meet his. 'I'm sorry,' she said again. 'But I couldn't not come.'

'I understand,' Maia said, 'and I thank you for your compassion.' He glanced around them at the camp. Men in the muddy rags of uniforms were making arrows by the warmth of smoky fires; women were tending children as best they could. There was the ripe smell of carrion cooking, the bubbling of thin soups, and the grating, persistent wailing of a child. 'Still and all, I don't advise you to come again. As legal ruler, I can still hold most of us from turning bandit. But by your next visit I may be dead or ousted. Tomorrow you may find yourself dealing with anyone. The Dark have taken a very heavy toll.'

Aide's voice was timid. 'Is Penambra truly destroyed, then? 'Truly,' the Bishop said quietly. 'Close to nine thousand of us left the city with wagonloads of goods, food, and all that we could carry away. You know Penambra - a city of bridges, built on a hundred islets in the bay. Rains flooded the town and trapped us in the cellars; and the Dark haunt those cellars, even in daylight. Half our provisions were lost to floods and half our people to the Dark before we even got clear of the town. Through the delta it was the same. The lands are flooded by the unseasonable rains and by the Dark, who have broken the levees on the rivers. What used to be the richest part of the Realm is deserted or peopled by ghouls who live by plundering the houses of the dead. It lies under terror of the Dark. They carry off as many as they kill outright. Did you know that?'

'Yes,' Aide said. 'I knew.'

He looked at her closely, then nodded. 'If you know that, my lady, and are still among us, you are more fortunate than I had thought.'