Seaborn

The Council

Sister Pearl stood on the floor of the throne room. Almost a week of misery had come and gone since that terrible morning when Saul was nearly slain before her eyes, and now at the news of this summons, the entire city was ablaze with rumors.

‘The creature died of its wounds! It did not last the night, praise be Celestia!’

‘Lady Shimmershield cut its head clean off! My cousin works in the castle, you gotta trust me!’

‘I heard the princess made it an Overseer! It rules the lands beyond the coastline, deep in the wooded steppes where the monsters roam and the sun shines red!’

‘I heard they took it for a concubine!’

Not a minute had passed that Pearl wasn’t accosted by curious ponies, eager to get the news from the source. Her sisters talked about it, her patients did too, and even the acolytes had grown the nerve to ask to her face! The city had gone mad! She just really needed some peace and quiet...

“Sooo...” the mare behind her began. Pearl’s ear began to twitch. “I sorta heard you were theeere...”

‘You’ll have your answers in five minutes,’ she wanted to scream. ‘Can’t you just wait in silence... for five minutes?!’

“I was,” she said instead. “No, they did not take him for a concubine. I don’t know if he’s dead. He was alive when I last saw him, and by Sol’s mercy, I don’t know how big his hooves are!”

“...what?”

Pearl sighed. “You don’t want to know...”

A moderate crowd of courtiers, retainers, and noblemares filled the room with their excited chatter. Guardsmares stood by every entrance, while Royal Guards lined a path to the base of the throne. There, a select few Crimson Knights waited in full panoply, though Pearl saw no sign of the ladies present when Saul almost died. All of this was cast under the light of the mirror system behind the throne, to make for a nearly ethereal mirage. Anypony who walked towards the princess would be blinded, forced to avert their eyes.

Crimson Belle sat on that stone-hewn seat, imposing and regal in a loose, see-through robe of black linen interwoven with golden thread, and her red coat as a backdrop. On her horn were placed several bands of gold and brass, and from her hooves hung bracelets made of silver chains encrusted with black rubies. Her eyes were dark with eyeliner, her mane was done in a crown-like braid, and her lips shone a bright carmine under the skylight.

At her sides were placed five chairs carved of cedarwood—inlaid with mosaic details of ivory, turquoise, and pearls—and on these sat the High Council, with Lady Glowspur at the princess’ right, the Exalted Mother to her left, and two more councilmares arranged beside them, with an oddly empty chair in the mix. It was a great gathering of the most powerful mares in the Crimson Shore... but to what end?

Pearl wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty ate at her heart the most. For all of everypony’s certainty that she knew what had happened, she simply didn’t. Anything could be true. Saul could be alive, or he could be dead... Today might be the day they present his severed head to the princess on a bronze platter. The thought made her queasy.

But she dared not leave. From her chair at the princessʼ left, the Exalted Mother cast her gaze across the gathering and looked for her. At least Pearl felt so. Every time her eyes roamed near, the little priestessʼ insides tightened. Theyʼd not spoken since that last Day of the Sun.

She mustn't dwell on it. Pearl looked elsewhere for distraction, only to be further reminded of the horrors of the past. Near the princess stood the barbarian pegasus, Rainstorm, with her left eye swollen shut into a mess of injured flesh, and her shoulders slumped as mares whispered around her. A defiant snarl quivered on her lips.

Part of Pearl wanted to cheer her misfortune. The barbarian had tried to kill Saul, after all. Was this humiliation not deserved? The priestess lowered her gaze.

'Who can blame Rainstorm for doing as she was commanded? Instead, let her shame be mine. I could not help him.ʼ

“Silence in the room!” came the cry from ahead, by the mirrorglare, where the Royal Captain’s voice cut through the chatter and silenced every sound not born of nature itself. Now came the horror, Pearl knew. She shut her eyes against the mounting pressure in her chest. She wished she knew what must come... the dread of the unknown gnawed at her insides.

“Let the Lord of Brine approach!”

A silence unlike any other fell over the room. All heads turned in the direction of the entrance, where two guardsmares grabbed hold of its doors by their auras and pulled. The scrape of wood on tile, the twist of hinges, and the very shift in the air became apparent. Pearl looked up.

Then, hoofsteps.

‘No,’ Pearl thought. ‘Not hooves at all!’

Her eyes widened and watched as a figure emerged from the shadows into the glaring light of the mirrors, and the throne room where once she’d thought him dead. Her heart stopped dead in her chest.

First were his hands. Rough, massive digits grasped the doorframe and pulled his body through the threshold. A head of wild, black mane came next, followed by the sharp, aquiline features of the creature that called itself human. Broad shoulders trailed after, hidden under a thick tunic of black linen, embroidered in crimson details. It opened down his front in a long ‘V’ shape that reached down just shy of his groin, to reveal bronzed flesh lightly coated in scented oils.

“Welcome, Lord of Brine!” came the voice of the princess, like a faraway cry in the roaring wind. “I trust you have recovered properly?”

Saul strode across the mosaic floor. His steps were decisive, legs like iron under black linen hose, trimmed with golden thread. Ruined, the buckle of his belt had been replaced by a clasp of bronze encrusted with a lone ruby. It secured the tunic to his hips, under which Pearl saw a hideous scar—stitched from navel to shoulder—swollen red.

“I have,” the human said, and his voice was stronger than before. There was a new energy to him now, a might borne of rest and purpose. His chest rose and fell with his words, a mass of corded muscle crowned by a patch of coarse, coal-like hairs. Then he raised his arms to his shoulders in that barbaric salute, and a murmur coursed through the crowd. His arms rippled with brute strength, thinly veiled under a layer of mortal flesh.

“My rest has been fruitful, and I am ready to deliver on my promise.”

It was as though a ghost had risen from the grave.

“Good!” the princess called. The faint sound of her hooves clopping together echoed through the room. “Come forth then, and let us speak! Stand before my council, Saul of the Brine!”

He strode through the room like a force of nature. His every step thundered with a loud clack! and Pearl saw that he had replaced his footwear with a makeshift pair of leather... things. A strap bound a hard, wooden sole to his feet, and somewhere in the back of her brain, her subconscious noticed that they were big. Like elongated versions of his hands—with comically small digits at their ends—harsh veins and rough hairs coated these, too.

Guardsmares backed away at his approach, all semblance of discipline forgotten in a moment of awe until he stood at last before the full brunt of the mirrors’ glare. He did not flinch. A gaze like wildfire tore through the mirrorglare, to look directly at the princess and her councilmares.

“I believe my specifications were delivered to Your Grace and her councilors?” the human asked, as he came to stand before the Crimson Knights who shifted uneasily under his stature.

“They were,” the princess said, her voice a sing-song, carefree tune that floated down from that elevated dais. “I believe Lady Silver Mint has some notes on the matter...”

Silence.

“Ahem. Lady Silver Mint?” The princess cleared her throat. “If you please?”

From beside and below the princess’ elevated dais, behind one of the carved wooden chairs given to the councilmares, a faint 'eep!' was heard. Then came the shuffling of hooves, the scrape of clay tablets against clay tablets, and the sound of wooden beads that struck each other.

“My lady, I swear...” Glowspur hissed, and from behind the only empty chair peeked out a fluffy mint mane and creamy, raspberry horn. Clear, green eyes followed, and these were wide as dinner plates. Silver Mint's pupils were grains of sand.

She mumbled something.

Lady Glowspur's frown deepened.

“My lady, I don't care if you're... What? What does 'shooketh' even mean?”

More mumbling. Glowspur slammed a hoof against the chair's armrest, and the little mare hit the ceiling with a yelp. On her throne, Crimson Belle rubbed a hoof between her eyes.

“I'd just like to remind everypony present that Lady Silver Mint came to us as a show of good faith from the Gilded Bay...”

Silver Mint, Keeper of the Purse and noble lady of the Crimson Shore, landed on her face two steps from Saul's feet with a loud splat!

“Is she dead?” asked the mare behind Pearl. The priestess pursed her lips and readied up a spell. Just in case.

But Silver Mint lived. Mostly. Her face detached from the tiles and—with one audible gasp!—her spirit tried to flee its mortal vessel. She was face to shin with the human!

“Make it quick, if it please my lord monster...” she said, her voice a soft whimper. The unicorn councilmare bared her neck and trembled.

Up on her dais the princess counted to ten. Beneath her, the councilmares contemplated murder. The human arched an eyebrow.

Seconds mounted. Silver Mint still lived.

She opened her eyes and scrunched.

“So you don't want to kill me, huh?”

The Keeper of the Purse lost her pallor and her face came alive with a bright, red glow. Her aura gripped one of her clay tablets and shattered! it against the floor.

“My lady what-” Glowspur took a step forward, but got no further. Silver Mint was far gone.

“Then explain this atrocity!” she howled. Her aura grasped tablet after tablet, her abacus, and a long set of strings with knots tied in groups at certain intervals. They hovered around the rabid mare as she raved and seethed over numbers and figures that soon broke the level of complexity Pearl could follow by mind alone.

“Iron! Iron by the bleeding shipload!” she screeched.

“Do you know how much thrice-cursed fuel we'll need to power the forges? How many smiths will fall behind their quotas to produce this monstrosity?!” Foam gathered at the edges of her lips.

“It's necessary,” the human responded, eyes on the mare. The faintest ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth. “No other material will withstand the reaction.”

He grinned fully.

“Unless you'd prefer to use bronze.”

Silver Mint recoiled as if struck. She reared back on her hind hooves and hissed!

“Beast! Animal! Begone! Don't come near me or I will bite you!”

The human chuckled and hooked his great digits under his belt.

“The iron I cannot dispense with. I must have it.”

These words he directed to the princess. She hummed. Silver Mint looked at her as though she were judging her life.

“Granted!” she said. The raspberry-coated councilmare howled and writhed on the mosaic floor.

“What of the other materials I requested?”

Silver Mint dragged herself to her hooves and quivered under some invisible weight. With eyes void of joy, she looked through her clay tablets and sniffled. Then she scrunched.

“What the buck is a Salty Peter?”

The human's demeanor shifted ever so slightly.

“Potassium nitrate. I take it you don't recognize it by that name?”

Silver Mint stared at him as though he'd grown a third eye.

Saul nodded stiffly, more to himself than anypony else.

“No matter. We can search for it, or if push comes to shove, I can make it. I'll just need time.”

Silver Mint growled something under her breath and started shuffling things back to her seat.

“This idiot project of yours better be worthwhile,” she said, as her aura stuffed a huge slab of clay inside a saddlebag. The servant that had carried it in looked at it with somber resignation. “How big is it going to be, anyway?”

“Hmm?” the human asked.

“All that iron! It's bound to be huge!”

“Ah, not at all. It's for the prototypes, in case there are flaws in construction or design.”

Silver Mint paused. She slowly turned to face Saul, eyes like pinpricks, but no longer from fear. Her muzzle opened, her teeth were bared, and a rabid rage overwhelmed her.

Not two seconds later, three knights held her down in their auras as they struggled to drag her back to her seat. She thrashed and spat, raged and screeched with abandon.

“I’ll kill him myself! Let me go! I swear I'm gonna kill hiiim!”

The meeting had to proceed without her.

“On the matter of further production...” Lady Stern Counsel, Grand Diplomat, continued. “Our friends abroad have received notice to look for these ‘ingredients’ in their travels. If we find them elsewhere, we will seek to procure them through trade. Otherwise...”

The human crossed his arms. “Yes?”

“Lord of Brine,” Stern Counsel brushed a strand of oiled mane from her face, “I do not know how well-acquainted you are with our realm, but judging by your specifications, I suppose not very much.”

Saul said nothing.

“There are few mountains and fewer mines within reach of us, good lord,” another voice spoke up. “Truly, the entirety of the Unicorn Shore sorely lacks a plentiful supply of most ores, woods, and stone.”

The Exalted Mother smiled kindly from her seat. Dressed in the white frock of the temple, trimmed in gold and silver thread, she looked at the human with a question gleaming in her eyes. Pearl averted her gaze.

“Yes, precisely, revered mother. Thank you.” Stern Counsel fixed a wrinkle in her black tunic, adorned with brass inlays in the shape of flowers. “Even if these materials should be identified, we would be... hard-pressed to procure them in the quantities you specify.”

Now the human shifted once more, no longer at ease as he’d been before. Up on her throne, Crimson Belle’s eyes were fixed on him. His every movement, his every word... The growing realization that it might not work at all weighed heavy in the room.

“I can manufacture them,” he said at last, after the silence dragged and the tension thickened. “But I will need time.”

Stern Counsel made to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

“And what guarantee do I have that this will be so?”

Saul raised his eyes to the princess. Their gazes locked for a few brief seconds, and none dared speak.

“It’s all a bit convenient, is it not?” she continued. “Strange materials nopony’s ever heard of, which only you can create from memory, and all you need is time. Some might call it suspicious.”

“Good thing then,” Saul smiled, “that there is good trust between us.”

Before Belle could say anything more, he lifted a lone finger, as though he’d suddenly remembered something.

“...and yet...” He reached into a pocket hidden in his tunic. From it he pulled a small rectangular object, flimsy, its colors washed out by seawater and dust. Pearl had never seen its kind before. At least, not in that form.

It opened between his digits as he handled the pages within. It was all flexible, and it brought to mind the strange papyrus used by priestesses in the Sapphire Tower. Saul leafed through it and settled on a section in particular, then began to read.

“From distant Cathay came the secret. A trinity risen from the pursuit of life eternal—saltpeter, sulfur, and fuel— birthed by the pains of strenuous experimentation, horrid mutilations, fire and the stench of brimstone in the distant East. Taoist Monks merged together the mysteries of Yin and Yang to create thunder which man could manipulate, unaware that their peaceful pursuits would unleash untold ages of warfare renewed. Smoke and fire, sulfur and the agonized cry of heaven made manifest would thus haunt the realms of man henceforth...”

His digits flipped through the pages with practiced ease, until he came to a stop on a passage marked by a discolored marker stuck to the top of the page.

“Uncontained, it loses its potency. Restrained, be it within the flimsy confines of the bamboo plant, or the robust cell of iron employed in latter years, the ‘Fire Drug’ unleashes a chemical reaction that culminates in the rapid expansion of gases which, unable to dissipate within its enclosure, seek to escape by any which way possible. When guided by the skilled craftsman, as seen by centuries of innovation, this terrible reaction can be made use of in the propelling of many a distinct projectile to great effect.”

Once more he turned the pages, but his eyes were on the princess. A red and black statue of unknowable thoughts, whose piercing ruby eyes were stuck to his moving lips.

“Thus, when mixed together in the aforementioned quantities, Saltpeter, Sulfur, and Charcoal-”

A red aura snatched the scroll from his hands. It crossed the room in the flicker of a candle flame, fast and true to its destination. As if on cue, the guardsmares and knights let their auras rest on the hafts and hilts of their weapons, certain that the human would rage against his own mistake and try to recover the artifact from the princess... but he did not. Saul watched with a cocked eyebrow as the scroll came to rest by Crimson Belle’s confused frown.

She flipped through the pages, she turned the thing upside down, and read it sideways. All to no avail. Her glare got darker, her frown deeper, and in the end she could do naught but let the thing hover down to rest by the armrest of her throne.

“It’s gibberish!” she cried out.

Saul covered his lips with the flat of his hand.

“A pity, your grace,” he said, voice alive with mirth. “But it seems our writing systems are not quite as compatible as our speech seems to be.”

Crimson Belle scrunched.

The strange scroll levitated back to land between his digits, and the princess stuck out her tongue.

“You're no fun, Lord of Brine,” she said. “No fun at all!”

Whatever else was said between them, Pearl did not hear it. She couldn’t focus. Brief though it had been, the glimpse she caught of that odd papyrus scroll was enough to shatter her world. The text on the scroll’s cover, the neat, precise writing, the form and arrangement of the characters... Her mind went back to the Temple of the Sisters—to those ancient walls, those precious murals—but more than anything, they went back to that olden script written by the ancient architects of that exalted building.

It was the same script as Saul's scroll!

Pearl gaped at the creature for the umpteenth time, though the wonder was now fresh and desperate. How?! was the question that buzzed in her mind, a feral swarm of wasps awakened by the call of battle. She took a step forward, unaware until the hoof of a Royal Guardsmare pressed against her chest.

‘No further, Sister,’ and she could do nothing but stare in bewilderment.

‘What secrets lay hidden in plain sight? What wonders?’

The conversation slowly returned to the fore. Now the Grand Admiral took the stage.

“My princess! Most esteemed Lord of Brine,” Cedar Oars, Grand Admiral of the Crimson Shore, stepped from her seat with a stride as confident as the mighty currents of the sea. Her dress hovered above her knees, short and tight to her body, but held by simple knots at her front and side. It was a deep blue with golden accents, adorned in pearls and lively coral jewelry. Her mane was done in a simple style, dressed in seashells and the claws of sea beasts.

“If I may volunteer my fleet, my seamares, and all the strength of Luna’s winds on my sails,” she extinguished her horn, “allow me to search the seas far and wide, to harry the coastlines, and make it my honorable quest to procure as much as is needed to ensure the greatness of our beautiful city!”

Silence met her proposal. Undeterred, the Grand Admiral remained before the throne, an eager smile on her face.

Crimson Belle exchanged a glance with Glowspur, a look that Pearl couldn't quite see from where she stood. The Exalted Mother then whispered something in the Terror's ear. Cedar Oars waited patiently, her glowing smile as bright as ever, though the rest of the council murmured quietly without her. For the briefest of moments, Stern Counsel was heard to utter the word ‘commoner’ between furtive whispers.

“Most gracious, my lady.” It was Glowspur who answered. “But that won’t be necessary.”

Cedar Oars thanked them without delay. She flourished her extinguished horn, smiled with gratitude, and sat back down. The princess did not look at her once during the exchange.

“You say you can make these things yourself,” the princess then said. Saul responded that he could. Crimson Belle pressed a hoof to her muzzle and hummed.

“Very well!” she said. “Let it be known that no feat is beyond me, that no project is too great! Saul of the Brine, if you can arrange a satisfactory demonstration of your sorcery, then by my throne, let it also be known that I will spare no expense to procure all that you require and more!”

Somewhere in the distance, Silver Mint's agonized scream echoed through every chamber in the palace.

“Can you do this?”

The human offered a firm nod. Eyes like steel, it was hard not to believe him.

“It will be a challenge that I will gladly undertake,” he said. “As per our agreement.”

“Yes, yes,” Belle waved the matter aside, “I’ve my finest minds on the matter, rest assured. Now, there’s the issue of your knighthood to discuss...”

The latter was a short rundown of his duties and, naturally, his benefits. Food and lodging, arms, textiles, and armor, as well as several bushels of wheat and jars of beer, wine, and oil were to be given him from the royal storerooms, plus a small sum of silver on a weekly basis, among other things quickly etched into clay by a scribe.

“...and two slaves of your choosing,” Crimson Belle finished. “Feel free to take your pick from my foremares’ stock. Just don’t bring them into the palace, please and thank you!”

The human’s brow arched at that, but he said little else but his thanks.

“As for your assistance...” she said. “Are you suuure this is all you need? No slaves? No foremares? I do want my sorcery-thingie sometime this lifetime, you know?”

The human chuckled.

“If they’re willing, then yes. I need no one else.”

The princess shrugged.

“So be it!” and court was adjourned.

In that great throne room, the little priestess wondered at the meaning of those parting words.

...but she need not wonder for long.

“A moment if you will, sister,” a guardsmare told her as she readied to leave, and soon she was led out by a different door, deeper into the palace. Her path led up, past familiar stairways, and to the guest rooms where once before she’d met her mentor.

“In there,” and she crossed through a doorway’s threshold, into the mystery laid before her.

The room itself was as she remembered it to be from her meeting with the Exalted Mother, though it wasn’t the same one. A lone window lay at its end, with an ample view of the Crimson River and its mouth that poured freshwater into the Mournful Sea. A bed, some chairs and a table decorated it, as well as a small bronze mirror set against the wall. A brazier stood by the corner, its embers alive and blazing in the early morning chill.

“They called ye, too,” a voice said to her from a nearby corner. Pearl started and turned to face the intruder with a yelp.

“R-rainstorm?!” she cried. The pegasus rolled her eyes.

“Nay, am a different pegasus, ye dolt.”

‘Was she? But she looked so simi- Hey!’

The priestess scrunched.

“Why did they call you, anyway?” Pearl asked, as the door closed behind her.

The pegasus shrugged her shoulders and looked about.

“I thought it was obvious.”

Of course it was! Whatever it might be... Pearl’s scrunch deepened.

The pegasus hummed as she paced about, casting her glance from the furniture to the lone window, shuttered and held fast by a wooden peg. She tested it with a hoof and frowned.

“Bloody terrible work,” she muttered.

“What?”

“If they’re trying t’kill us, I mean.”

...

“WHAT”

Hoofsteps. Harsh, determined, they echoed outside the room. Then, the sound of an aura on the door. Somepony stood outside. Rainstorm pressed a hoof to her muzzle ‘shhh’ and the priestess saw that in her other hoof she had a heavy iron poker taken from the brazier. Pearl gaped at the pegasus, a panicked, wide-eyed stare on her pale face.

“I knew it would happen soon,” the pegasus’ expression was grim, “the human wants his vengeance...”

The door rattled. Pearl had the briefest moment to realize Rainstorm had barred it with a stool.

“W-what?! That can’t be!” she cried, but the pegasus’ steely eyes were hard to disbelieve. She had positioned herself between the door and the window, iron in hoof. Pearl’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’m not going down without a fight,” Rainstorm said.

The door opened. Pearl screamed.

Rainstorm giggled.

From beyond the threshold, Lady Shimmershield arched an eyebrow as she entered the room. Pearl’s cry died in her throat, an extinguished little squeak.

“Is... everything alright, sister?” she asked.

The priestess looked at Shimmershield, then at the barbarian’s widening smirk, and felt her cheeks begin to flush. Pearl clenched her teeth and nodded stiffly, scrunch at maximum capacity.

“I’m fine, my lady...” she muttered through gritted teeth.

From her end of the room, Rainstorm giggled and lazily closed her wings with a sigh. Then, as quickly as her mirth had come, it dissipated. She looked at Shimmershield with a cool, unreadable expression, almost as though her joke still rang true, somewhere deep in her subconscious.

“Why’d ye call us?” she asked.

Shimmershield merely shook her head in response. “It wasn’t me who summoned you.” She stood aside. “Whenever you’re ready, lord.”

All the joy seeped from the pegasus’ face. Pearl stiffened at the sound of heavy steps outside the room.

Saul entered and a heavy weight was upon them at once. Pearl watched him, but could not look him in the eyes. She’d often fantasized about what things she would say when—if—she ever saw him again, but in that moment her mind drew a blank. What could she say? Should she apologize for her failure to protect him? Berate him for his crass behavior?

...beg for mercy?

Even then, the questions in her mind also swarmed her thoughts with fierce insistence. What were the symbols on that scroll of his? Why were they so like the ones in the temple? Who was he, who could read that most ancient and sacred of scripts?

All these things rushed around in her thoughts and struggled viciously with the simple joy that he lived and was well, that she could scarcely explain. In the end, the priestess indulged none of her instincts and merely stared at the floor at a loss for words or coherent thought.

He spoke first.

“It is good to see you standing, Rainstorm of Longwing,” he said to the pegasus, an honest smile on his lips. “I feared I’d hit you too hard.”

Rainstorm snorted. Her black eye—the flesh, swollen a fierce purple tint—twitched as she arched her brow.

“Yer gunna have tae do worse’n that to keep me down!” she said, the ghost of a grin once again on her lips, and cleared her throat. “I... uh... managed to nick you, too. How’s... how is it?”

The human chuckled and lifted the sleeve of his tunic to reveal a deep gouge carved into the meat of his shoulder. The flesh beneath the stitches seemed to pulse, fiercely red and angry.

“A bit further to the right,” he said, “and you might have done something worth remembering. As it is? I’ve had worse while shaving.”

The pegasus whinnied and rolled her eyes. “Bloody big lump! If I’d thought a bleeding tree trunk could dodge, I’d have put in some effort!”

The lunatics laughed. Pearl frowned.

“You could have killed him...” she said, and almost regretted it. The way the pegasus’ face fell... Pearl bit her lips and turned to look at Saul. His own face shifted, but not the way she thought it might. It was almost fatherly.

“We’ve all done things we regret,” he offered. “But the past lies behind us, and like so many things, it is often forced on us.

“But our future is a choice,” he said, and his hand reached into the pocket of his tunic to bring out that strange, mystical scroll. He offered it to them, like one might offer a relic before an altar. “My future demands a task greater than myself... a path I cannot tread alone. I would have you tread this path with me.”

Pearl looked at those strange symbols, those twisting, twirling markings that hid so much meaning... if only she could understand them. Then she looked at Saul. In his eyes there was purpose, but also the weight of what he must do. She knew what her answer was.

“Shed your shame and follow,” he said to them. “We have work to do.”