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PART I

The raven knows no rest

His shadow ceaseless

Upon the earth

—SEORDAH POEM, AUTHOR UNKNOWN

VERNIERS’ ACCOUNT

He aiting on the wharf when I arrived with ular features turned towards the horizon, his cloak wrapped tight against the seaward chill My initial puzzleht of the ship leaving the harbour, a narrow-hulled vessel of Meldenean design, sent to the Northern Reaches with an ireatly

He turned to regard ht, wary sered to witness my own departure Our interactions since the relief of Alltor had been brief, somewhat terse in truth, distracted as he was by the ceaseless tuued hiue that turned his once-strong features into a sagging y and his strident if coarse voice into a droning rasp It had faded now, I could see Recent battle see me wonder if he found some form of sustenance in blood and horror

“My lord,” he greeted me with a sketch of a formal bow then nodded at my prisoner “My lady”

Fornella returned the nod but gave no response, regarding hied wind tossed her hair, a single streak of grey visible amidst the reddish brown tumult

“I have already received aan but Al Sorna waved a hand

“I come to offer no instruction, my lord,” he said “Merely a farewell and my best wishes for your endeavour”

I watched his expression as he waited for a response, the wary suarded Can it be? I wondered Is he seeking forgiveness?

“Thank you,totide”

“Of course I’ll accompany you”

“We don’t need a guard,” Fornella said, her tone harsh “I’ve given my word, tested by your truth-teller” It was true, alked alone thiswithout escort or formality The reborn court of the Unified Realm had little time or inclination for ceremony

“Indeed, Honoured Citizen,” Al Sorna replied in clumsy and heavily accented Volarian “But I havewords for this grey-clad”

“Free ue “Grey-clad denotes financial rather than social status”

“Ah, quite so, estured forthe wharf to the quay where the ships waited, a long line of Meldenean war galleys and traders Naturally, our vessel was moored at the farthest end of the line

“Brother Harlick’s gift?” he enquired, nodding at the bag I carried

“Yes,” I said “Fifteen of the oldest books in the Great Library, those I could identify as useful in the small tiument from the brother librarian when I iven an affable nod and barked an iather the requisite scrolls froons that served as his movable library I knew his apparent indifference to this theft was at least partly derived froift; he could always simply pen fresh copies, and openly since the need to keep such things hidden had disappeared The Dark, as they called it, now revealed and discussed openly, the Gifted free to practice their talents without fear of swift torering fear on the faces of those not so talented, and the envy,me wonder if perhaps the wisest course would have been to keep the Gifted in the shadows But could shadows ever linger in the fires of war?

“You really think he’s in there somewhere?” Al Sorna asked as alked towards the ship “The Ally?”

“An influence so n and powerful is bound to leave traces,” I said “A historian is a hunter, rowth of correspondence andprey via the spoor of memory I don’t expect to find a co, be it beast or man or neither But it will have left traces, and I intend to hunt it down”

“Then you should have a care, for I suspect it will not be blind to your attentions”

“Nor yours” I paused, glancing at his profile, seeing a troubled brow Where is your certainty? I thought It had been one of hisour previous association; the irihed down by the prospect of trials to come