"We are, Mere. At last."
"You will help us get situated when we arrive in the city," Rusilla said to Nix.
Nix chuckled, looked to Egil. "She gives orders like a noblewoman. And this time with her lips instead of her mind."
"Speaking of," Egil said, "how much of this did you plan from the beginning?"
"As much as I could," Rusilla answered.
"And how much of what we did was you and not us?" Egil asked her.
She looked off to the side and smiled, a secretive look. She was striking in profile, a strong jaw and regal nose. "Does it matter?"
"It matters," Nix said.
"Why?" she asked softly.
It mattered because he wanted to be that kind of man, not be made to behave like that kind of man. It mattered because he wanted to believe that the difference between him and Rakon Norristru was a gulf of moral sense, not opportunity and circumstances.
"It just does."
"Aye," Egil answered.
Rusilla was silent a long time. Minnear had vanished from the sky. Finally she said, "I don't know how much was me and how much was you. You have to answer that for yourself."