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He stopped. Her name was Duskwind. She died; I did too, a little. Bey s
fault. I m going to kill him for it, and free a friend of mine he s holding.
You mentioned your friend second. There was coolness in her voice. Is
revenge more important?
I He went back to the lacings. I don t know. I can t separate them. She
saw the Ace of Swords as he slipped it around his neck.
There was a blast of trumpets. She sprang to her feet Her persona was now High
Constable; she was into her armor, white-wing-helmeted, before he finished
dressing.
Downstairs, they found Andre greeting the Trustee, Angorman and two squadrons
of cavalry. The Trustee demanded, All is secured?
Swan answered, There is more to matters than that, but yes.
Then, said the old woman, let us go rest from all this whooping about. It
is always a treat to visit Ladentree.
They went to an inner garden of the library. Silverquill appeared, and
welcomed the Trustee with a deep bow. She returned it equally. Please be
comfortable, the Sage invited, but I ask you to put weapons aside. There
have been enough tools of war brandished here in Ladentree.
Swan and Andre laid aside their swords and Gil put down his guns. Angorman
looked stubborn; he was thinking of his last separation from Red Pilgrim, at
Dulcet s. Come, Saint-Commander, beckoned the Trustee, lay your axe against
the rose trellis. It will not be alone. She leaned her rune-carved Crook of
Office next to it. They all found places on benches of agate centuries old.
Swan told what had happened in crisp, accurate style.
This misfortune is less than it could have been, the ruler of Glyffa
decided. Bey s information was faulty; he lost much time in his hunting.
Since he came himself, trusting no subordinate, a major advantage must have
been at stake. I would give a pretty to ken what he won last night.
Swan asked, How stand things with the Southwastelanders?
The Occhlon withdrew, but regrouped, positioned at a certain disadvantage,
inviting us to close with them. The old woman shook her head in wry humor. I
can recognize a pig in the parlor when I see one there, or a worm on a hook.
They wanted to engage us, thus I sought elsewhere for their real motive.
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Setting my Lord Blacktarget to keep surveillance, I came here to find it, but
not in time to strive against Yardiff Bey.
She drew on memories for a moment, then decided they were something the others
there should hear. I remember the Hand of Salamá in his youth, ere his foul
affiliations were known, an avaricious boy, hungry for power. I was foremost
among the Adepts then, having earned my Crook. Where Salamá stands now, the
center of the Unity was then. The Lifetree bloomed nearby, its upper branches
in the clouds, its roots delving to the earth s core, holding all spheres in
its grand equilibrium. Gift of the Bright Lady, it was the demonstration of
the Unity s office. Sojourners from every earthly quarter saw it; it is in
most religions still. We held high hopes for the human race in those days.
And the sorcerer? prodded Angorman.
Bey, yes; a willful one, even then. But of course, it was the demon Amon who
seduced the Five. While the rest of us sat in the shade of the Lifetree,
complacent or preoccupied with higher knowledge, Amon stole among the Lords
Paramount of the Unity. Even Dorodor, central figure of the Unity, more
demigod than man, failed to detect it.
First of the demon s levers was Skaranx, whose high honor was to warder the
Lifetree, but who destroyed it. Then there was Temopon, trusted Seer, who
delivered false counsel. So too fell Vorwoda, taken with Amon s promises,
betraying her husband Dorodor; she had been his mainstay. She lusted for
Kaytaynor, Dorodor s closest friend, who slew him for envy of his wife and
took her. Lastly was Dorodeen, the Flawed Hero who, failing to win the
loftiest seat in the Unity, would take no second place, and set about to bring
it low.
Together, the Five compacted to annihilate the Lifetree and slay the Unity s
most puissant overlords. They would throw open the Infernal Plane, unleashing
the hordes of the lower regions. In those first two aspirations they
succeeded; the flower of the Unity perished, and the Lifetree with them. But
in the final days of the Masters plan, their Great Blow, remnants of us
gathered to rob them of total victory. A portent appeared in the sky, the
Trailingsword, to call together all persons of good intent. We won our
resistance, but the world was tottered and changed forever.
There are omens showing themselves, the Trustee finished, which are
products of those bygone days. I cannot share my every datum with you; proof
will be forthcoming.
We worry not, Angorman said in confidence; chip by chip is the oak hewn.
As the Trustee was about to respond, Birds of Accord flocked down through the
garden in a soft-winged cloud. Gil was nervous, remembering the aerial attack
on the Tangent, but these Birds only lilted their song. Many hopped through
the trellis, flitting from it to Red Pilgrim, then the Trustee s Crook and
back again. One perched on the old woman s extended finger, singing as if
telling her something, but she didn t have its language.
Here is a good omen, surely, Angorman remarked.
Aye, she answered, they bode good luck.
How lucky can they be? Gil injected. They re dying out.
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