“Ah…” [2] said. “The Way of Kings, is it? Adrotagia has mentioned that book.”

“Yes,” [1] said. “ ‘In this town, I found men bedeviled. There had been a murder. A hogman, tasked in protecting the landlord’s beasts, had been assaulted. He lived long enough, only, to whisper that three of the other hogmen had gathered together and done the crime.

“ ‘I arrived as questions were being raised, and men interrogated. You see, there were four other hogmen in the landlord’s employ. Three of them had been responsible for the assault, and likely would have escaped suspicion had they finished their grim job. Each of the four loudly proclaimed that he was the one who had not been part of the cabal. No amount of interrogation determined the truth.’ ”

[1] fell silent.

“What happened?” [2] asked.

“He doesn’t say at first,” [1] replied. “Throughout his book, he raises the question again and again. Three of those men were violent threats, guilty of premeditated murder. One was innocent. What do you do?”

“Hang all four,” [2] whispered.

[1]—surprised to hear such bloodthirst from the other man— turned. [2] looked sorrowful, not bloodthirsty at all.

“The landlord’s job,” [2] said, “is to prevent further murders. I doubt that what the book records actually happened. It is too neat, too simple a parable. Our lives are far messier. But assuming the story did occur as claimed, and there was absolutely no way of determining who was guilty… you have to hang all four. Don’t you?”

“What of the innocent man?”

“One innocent dead, but three murderers stopped. Is it not the best good that can be done, and the best way to protect your people?” [2] rubbed his forehead. “Stormfather. I sound like a madman, don’t I? But is it not a particular madness to be charged with such decisions? It’s difficult to address such questions without revealing our own hypocrisy.”

Hypocrite, Amaram accused [1] in his mind.

He and Gavilar hadn’t used pretty justifications when they’d gone to war. They’d done as men did: they’d conquered. Only later had Gavilar started to seek validation for their actions.

“Why not let them all go?” [1] said. “If you can’t prove who is guilty—if you can’t be sure—I think you should let them go.”

“Yes… one innocent in four is too many for you. That makes sense too.”

“No, any innocent is too many.”

“You say that,” [2] said. “Many people do, but our laws will claim innocent men—for all judges are flawed, as is our knowledge. Eventually, you will execute someone who does not deserve it. This is the burden society must carry in exchange for order.”

“I hate that,” [1] said softly.

“Yes… I do too. But it’s not a matter of morality, is it? It’s a matter of thresholds. How many guilty may be punished before you’d accept one innocent casualty? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred? When you consider, all calculations are meaningless except one. Has more good been done than evil? If so, then the law has done its job. And so… I must hang all four men.” He paused. “And I would weep, every night, for having done it.”

Damnation. Again, [1] reassessed his impression of [2]. The king was soft-spoken, but not slow. He was simply a man who liked to consider a great long time before committing.

“Nohadon eventually wrote,” [1] said, “that the landlord took a modest approach. He imprisoned all four. Though the punishment should have been death, he mixed together the guilt and innocence, and determined that the average guilt of the four should deserve only prison.”

“He was unwilling to commit,” [2] said. “He wasn’t seeking justice, but to assuage his own conscience.”

“What he did was, nevertheless, another option.”

“Does your king ever say what he would have done?” [2] asked. “The one who wrote the book?”

“He said the only course was to let the Almighty guide, and let each instance be judged differently, depending on circumstances.”

“So he too was unwilling to commit,” [2] said. “I would have expected more.”

“His book was about his journey,” [1] said. “And his questions. I think this was one he never fully answered for himself. I wish he had.”

They sat by the not-fire for a time before [2] eventually stood and rested his hand on [1]’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said softly, then left.

He was a good man, the [3] said.

“Nohadon?” [1] said.

Yes.