Author's Notes: Interesting idea on trust in this chapter. What do you think, readers?

"...does not exist in any of the records that I have searched. It is clear that he is nothing more than a petty thief on the run."

I pulled up short outside of the High Priestess's office, nearly dropping my candle. The voices of Bethaniel and her two sisters came drifting out clearly in the night air.

"We should toss him out on his dishonest ear, the lying brute."

All the air seemed to leave the corridor.

"Now Sister, there's no need to be crude. He is nearly healed, and he will no longer have the immunity granted by the Temple. We shall turn him over to the Sentinels and let them handle it. These things tend to take care of themselves."

I ran, no longer caring if the High Priestess caught me. I burst into the healing ward, my heart in my throat. There were no other patients in the room, and in the still air for a moment I thought he was already gone. But he started and sat up at my fast encroaching footsteps.

"Abilene?" he whispered, his face quickly changing from confusion to alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Is it true, that you are nothing more than a thief?" The truth burst out from my lips, and even in the dark, I could see a shadow pass over Reyloran's face before he ducked his head and chuckled quietly.

"Your fellow priestesses do not trust me very much."

I would not be put off from this discussion so easily. "Have you given them a reason to? You show up with an injury from a powerful foe, do not give us a name except under duress, and offer no information about yourself."

I was ashamed to feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I whispered the last. "What are we supposed to think?"

"Abilene." He was sitting on the edge of the cot now, and reached out for my hand. I let him pull me toward him, against everything I had just said. I stood facing him, although I could not make my eyes lift further than my hands, which he held between his. When I did not respond, he repeated my name, even more gentle than before.

"Abilene." He rubbed his thumb over the scar on my palm. I had healed it sloppy, too flustered to do more than close it quickly. The reminder that I had acted hastily and would always have a mark to show for it, did not settle well in the pit of my stomach. His eyes, when he brought them up to meet mine, were more solemn than I had seen them thus far.

"You say that you have no reason to trust me. But I ask you; what reason have I given you to not? Have I not shown that I am far more interested in your welfare than my own? Did I not give you my name freely, before you gave me yours?"

I nodded, feeling numb inside of my chest. He sighed, and his face seemed pinched, on its way to disappointment, and it was startling how much it hurt that it was directed at me.

"Have you ever asked me any of these questions? I have never held anything from you."

I had already embarrassed myself so much, but in the still of the early night, I needed to hear the truth, regardless.

"How did you come by your wounds?"

Reyloran's face lifted in a crooked smile. "I angered a very important warlock. He did not appreciate the liberation of his precious artifacts."

At first I felt relief that he had answered me so readily, but then his words sunk in and I felt my stomach drop.

"So...you are a thief."

Reyloran released my hands, and I felt a little unsteady in the shifting world. "From a man who was clearly evil. How do you think he came about those artifacts? He ripped them right from the souls of his victims. So is it really stealing, if it is from one who is a far worse thief than you?"

I picked my next words out carefully, knowing that it was not my heart that was directing them, but my increasingly absent sense of self-preservation.

"I am not confident that I should be placing my trust so willingly in the hands of one who steals from others, no matter how evil."

He pulled back from me completely then, and I tried not to notice how it felt as if a hole had been ripped from inside me. He leaned back in his cot, adjusting the blankets, and didn't meet my eyes for moment. When he did, they were not angry, as I feared, but contemplative.

"There is much talk, both here in your Temple, and in the ever-growing world around us, of the concept of trust. How you can earn it, and what proper penitence should be taken if you break it."

His eyes were so intense that it felt like they touched my soul.

"I tend more toward the idea that trust is not some kind of debt to pay into, but a choice, given freely. Good night, Abilene."