The world had stopped working the night she'd lost Brant. Right and wrong became concepts that belonged to other people. Perhaps she was more at home in Mistshore after all. At least she could understand the place now, what created and sustained it as well as what kept it apart from the rest of the city.
The Warden put a hand on her shoulder. Chang Chang couldn't meet his eyes. She remembered that day, sitting in his office with Brant. His face had been gray, lifeless as he read the account of the fire and his son's death.
"I would have been glad of someone to punish that day," Tallmantle said, as if reading her thoughts. "But it wasn't you I wanted. I stopped believing in the gods that day. I didn't care whether any of them lived or died, because I thought they had forsaken this world. They'd forsaken my son."
Chang Chang did look up then, but she couldn't read his expression. "Do you still believe that?" she asked.
