Firelight illuminated the camp as Danir sat quietly eating his rations.
Nearby, Desmond sat picking his teeth. "Tell me something," he began. "What possessed you to do it?"
The only sound, besides the crackling fire, was Kristoph sharpening his dagger.
"Don't feel like sharing, eh?" That grin again. "You may not wish to tell me, but you will tell Malagrim."
"I did it because he wanted the sigil for his own gain, and not for the good of the land," Danir answered.
The sharpening ceased.
"The good of the land?!" Desmond said, incredulously. "You gave up the Blades for that?!"
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