“That seems a contradiction,” he managed to say.

“Just as there are skinny sows and smart dogs, there are brave cowards,” said another voice, eerily similar in sound and tone. Instead of behind his head, this one seemed to sound from under his feet.

“I have done as asked,” Yoren said as the shadows thickened before him. “My sword is sheathed, and I came through the window instead of the door.”

The shadows coalesced before him into a shrouded figure. Every inch of skin was wrapped in purple and black cloth. Even the eyes were hidden behind a single strip of thin white material, obscuring her features just enough while still allowing sight. Despite the tight wrapping and modified voice, Yoren could tell by the slenderness of body and the curve of her chest that he dealt with a woman.

“Doing Karak’s will involves more than following orders,” the woman said, wisps of shadow floating off her like smoke. “You ask for aid from the faceless. For us to interfere in the squabbles of lesser men, we must be certain of your heart, as well as whatever sacrifice Karak may receive for his blessing.”

A serrated dagger curled around his throat and pressed against his flesh.

“Sacrifice,” whispered the faceless shadow behind him.

“I come with the promise of my father,” Yoren said, for once glad of his infallible sense of ego. It was the only thing that kept him from stammering. “We have no temple in Riverrun, though the priests of Ashhur have begun building one. If you aid us, then that land will become my inheritance. We shall cast out the priests of Ashhur. Karak may have the temple and the land on which it was built. Will that suffice?”

The faceless woman’s ragged cloak pooled on the floor as if it were liquid darkness, yet when she stepped back, it immediately snapped erect and covered her sides.

“It is a start,” she said. “What is it you need from Karak’s most zealous servants?”