One day, as Sif sat down to play with the kittens and their mother, Rágn stepped in, a serious look on his face.

" Lady Hélna, there's something I must tell you," he said.

Sif straightened up to look at him, put off by his manner. It had been a long time since he had first arrived and they were at odds.

" I have betrayed you," he said. " I did not want to do so while grandmother was alive, and cause her pain if you turned out to be an imposter. But I cannot rest without knowing whether you're really a god. Was my grandmother's faith for nothing? I was tormented by these thoughts, and on the night of her funeral, I paid a messenger to go to Calsar's keep and speak with the army. I asked them to send a priest, who may determine the truth of the matter."

Sif stared at him.

He hung his head.

" I regret it," he said. " It was petty jealousy and grief that drove me mad. Of course you're a god; how else would these fields prosper? If Lady Hélna wishes to punish me, then so be it. But I thought I must at least warn you."

He looked terribly ashamed. As he should be. Sif was furious, but had no idea how to show it; Rágn had always been so doubtful, but Sif really thought he was over his skepticism. How could he expect that he would call someone from the army he'd served in? How could he confess to it so easily and beg for punishment? Sif was so angry he didn't want to look at him; he got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

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