Into the Forge

Chapter 13

"How will a war on Mithgar give Gyphon dominion over all of creation?" asked Tipperton. "And this Modru-just who or what is he?"

Talarin sat back down. " 'Tis a long tale, Sir Tipperton, Sir Beau, and one best told after ye have had a chance to wash away all travel stains and to take a meal. We sup in four candlemarks. Join us and we will speak of these things afterward. Too, ye can tell us a tale of how ye twain came to pass through Dhruousdarda, through the Drearwood."

"Four candlemarks?" said Beau. "Oh, my, that would be enough time for a full bath-that is, if you have hot water and a bathing room."

Rael laughed, her voice a silver trill. "Oh, yes, Sir Beau, a bath indeed we can furnish, though I'm afraid you'll have to provide thine own fresh clothing, for we have nought sized to fit thee or Sir Tipperton."

Beau's face fell. "Urn, I'm afraid we'll just have to put these back on, m'Lady. All our goods were lost in Drear-wood when- But here, I get ahead of myself. That tale'11 have to wait until we've cleaned up a bit… scraped some, of the dirt off, so to speak."

Rael's brow wrinkled, but then she smiled, saying, "Alor Loric, if thou wilt show our guests the way…"

Loric bowed and murmured, "Aye, crystal seer."

Loric turned and started across the wooden floor, Tip and Beau in his wake. Behind, Dara Rael called out in Sylva to the gathering, and just as the buccen and their Lian escort exited from the hall, Tip looked back to see her whispering urgently to Elfmaidens gathered 'round, while at the same time eyeing the departing trio.

Followed by the Warrows, their breath blowing white in the frigid mountain air, Loric crossed the snow to another long, low building, smoke from chimneys rising into the sky. Stepping inside and past another door, the Warrows found themselves in a warm bathing chamber, where copper tubs filled with water asteam sat on iron plates laid over a raised hearth below which ruddy embers glowed. And Loric and the buccen doffed their garments-gritty clothes which they had worn for weeks without respite-and hung them on hooks, all but their socks, which they draped over their boots. Loric shared out towels from a shelf, along with scrub cloths and soap mildly scented with the fragrance of meadow bluebells. They each eased into the large tubs-Tip and Beau in one, Loric in another-and the water came up to the wee buccen's chins, though only up to Loric's chest.

"Oh, Lor'," groaned Beau, "but this feels wonderful. It seems a lifetime since I've truly been warm."

Tip nodded, adding, "And another lifetime since I've been clean."

Leaning back, Tip and Beau luxuriated in the water, quiescent, not speaking at all, lolling as the grime and sweat of trek and flight and fear and hiding soaked away. Loric, too, slid down into his steaming bath and lazed, for he had been long on patrol.

After a goodly while, Loric said, "A candlemark or so, and they'll be expecting us."

Both Tip and Beau were awakened from a drowse by Loric's words, and they yawned and stretched, and Beau looked at his hands and fingers and said, "Lor', but I'm as wrinkled as a raisin."

Tip looked at his own crinkled hands and laughed, and both buccen ducked completely under, then stood and took up cloths and soap and began liberally lathering themselves. Tip was in the middle of scrubbing his hair when the door opened and an Elfmaiden came into the chamber and "Hoy, now," sputtered Beau, dropping down into the water. "I say, you should knock or give warning or something." Tip remained standing, for his eyes were closed against the soap slathering down from his locks.

The dark-haired Elfmaiden laughed aloud as she stepped to their clothes, and at this sound of femininity Tip gasped and splashed down and under, only to flounder up spluttering and wiping his eyes as he peered over the edge.

Loric grinned and canted his head and simply said, "Dara Elissan."

"Alor Loric," Elissan replied, plucking their clothes from the hooks and gracefully kneeling to take up their socks. Standing, she turned to leave.

"But, wait!" protested Beau. "We're going to need those."

Elissan looked down at the garments and wrinkled her nose in mild aversion. "Oh, I think not, wee one, at least not until they've been thoroughly boiled."

"But what'11 we…?" Beau's question went unanswered as she vanished out the door. He looked at Tip and shrugged, adding, "I suppose we can wrap ourselves up in towels to attend the banquet."

Tip slowly began lathering himself, and he glanced over at Loric. "I say, Loric, do your dammen-er, uh, do your Elfmaidens usually come barging in on bathers? I mean, I stood there naked as a newborn, and yet she, uh…" Tip's words stumbled to a halt, and he turned up his hands.

But Beau chimed in. "I think what Tip's trying to ask is, don't your kind have any manners of modesty?"

Loric barked a laugh. "When ye have lived as long as we, modesty at bathing and such is found for the most to be unnecessary. However, Elissan in her haste simply forgot that others share not this same-"

Loric's words were interrupted by a knock on the door, but before any could answer, Rael and Elissan and three other Elfmaidens came sweeping in.

Once again Tip and Beau plopped down in their tub, though Loric, seated, nonchalantly canted his head, saying, "Darai."

"We have brought ye raiment," said Rael, turning to other of the Elfmaidens. Forward stepped a trio of Darai, each bearing folded garments. As one moved toward Loric, he murmured, "Chier."

Slender she was and had black hair and brown eyes. She kissed Loric and said, "Chieran, ir awn soil."

Loric nodded and grinned and said, "Hai," and though he remained sitting in soapy water, he held his arms wide in display, adding, "neh?"

Now the Dara laughed, then turned and laid the folded clothes on a nearby bench.

The two Elfmaidens facing Tip and Beau smiled at the Waerlinga, both buccen peering over the edge of their tub, wrinkled fingers gripping the rim, water dripping and dribbling down their faces from fresh-washed hair.

"May I present Darai Seena and Jaith," said Loric, then added, "And she who kissed me is Dara Phais."

All three Elfmaidens curtseyed, and Tip and Beau both bobbed their heads and mumbled embarrassed hullos. Then dark-eyed Seena and redheaded Jaith held forth two folds of clothes, and Seena said, "These must needs do as garments." And Jaith added, "While those ye wore are laundered well." Then they, too, turned and lay the clothing on the bench.

Now Rael smiled at the Waerlinga. "I deem they will fit ye, for we all have a good eye. -Darai?"

Rael turned and glided from the room, followed by the others, including Elissan, who smiled at the Waerlinga and winked at Tip as she stepped from the chamber, leaving Tip blushing furiously, while Beau and Loric laughed.

Clean and warm at last and dressed in modified Elven tunics-their sleeves cut down and their waists gathered at the back to fit Waerlinga-Tip, in dark blue, and Beau, in pale yellow, sat with their feet dangling and swinging from Elven chairs, tall for the likes of the wee buccen. They were ensconced in a warm alcove with Talarin and Rael and Loric and Phais. Wrapped 'round the three walls of the retreat, a single muted tapestry hung, subtle colors seeming to move in the shifting light of the hearthfire, the hues and shades and tints depicting bowl-shaped slopes of an open grove wherein figures reclined to listen as a being in white held forth. The meal was long past, and the six had retired to these quarters, where Talarin served each a small cup of hammered silver filled with dark Vanchan wine. And as the night grew older, Tip and Beau related their tale-of the skirmish at the mill and the wounded Kingsman and his coin and request and warning ere he was foully slain, of the fire atop Beacontor following the capture and destruction of that signal post and its subsequent recapture, of the track of the Spawn into the Dellin Downs, of the finding of the flag and the muster at Twoforks and of Willoby and Harl's discovery of other slain Kingsmen, of the decision to bear the coin through Drearwood and east to Agron, and of the westward march of the Swarm and of the buccen's subsequent travails, ending with their capture by Vanidor's squad of march-ward Elves "… though perhaps rescue is a better term," said Tip, "for we were at the end of our string, and surely had the Spawn been lying in wait for us in that gulch, we would not now be here telling you this."

"Even had the Rucks and such not been there at all," added Beau, "most likely we would have starved to death, out there on the ice, for we didn't know where Elvenkind lived, nor would we have ever found Arden Vale, for it is truly hidden. Loric and Vanidor and Arandar and the others saved our necks right enough, and in more ways than one."

Both of the buccen raised their drinks in salute to Loric, and he raised his chalice in return.

Talarin stood and took up the flask to refresh each of their cups, and Tipperton said, "Well, that's our story, and a sad one it is, what with us losing our ponies and goods and all, and nearly getting killed more times than I care to remember."

Talarin paused in his task and raised an eyebrow. "That ye survived at all is testament to your wiliness, for to come afoot through the whole of Drearwood in these times and without heavy escort is nigh miraculous."

"Adon must have had ye in His hand," said Rael.

"Indeed," replied Tipperton.

"Hoy, now," said Beau, "speaking of Adon, what's all this about Gyphon? Just who is this Modru, and why would he go against High King Blaine?"

All eyes turned to Talarin, but he in turn looked at Rael. "Chieran."

Rael took a deep breath. "I will answer thy last question "first, and thy first question last, Sir Beau."

She paused as Talarin refilled her own cup, and Loric murmured, "Settle back, my wee friends, for the crystal seer's tale may be a long one."

Tip glanced from Loric to Rael in puzzlement, yet before he could say aught, Rael began.

"Modru is what some call a Black Mage-"

"Black Mage?" blurted Beau. "Sounds grim."

Rael nodded.

"Just what is a, um, Black Mage?" asked Tipperton.

"One who twists his arts toward evil ends," replied Rael. "One who seeks to gratify his own desires through any means, fair or foul. Perhaps the principal mark of a Black Mage is his complete disregard for the needs of others except as they serve his own pleasures and his lust for total dominion o'er all."

"Oh, my," said Beau.

"Are there many Black Mages?" asked Tip.

Rael canted her head. "Dara Arin once told me-"

"Dara Arin?" Tip interjected. "Lady Arin of the ballads? Lady Arin and Egil One-Eye and the quest of the Green Stone of Xian?"

Rael took a breath to answer, but Loric said, "Ah, wee ones, should ye continue to ask, mayhap it will be after the spring thaw ere the crystal seer can finish her tale."

Tip looked at Beau, and that buccan made a motion as if he were buttoning his lips together, and Tip turned to Rael and said, "Loric is right. Please do go on, and we will try to hold our questions for another time."

Rael smiled and looked at Tip. "Still I will answer thee: Dara Arin is indeed the Lady of the ballads, who, with others, quested after the green stone-the Dragonstone of dreadful portent. And during that quest she came upon knowledge that there are a number of Dark Mages upon Mithgar, though how many she knew not.

"Regardless, Modru is one of these, and he squats in his cold iron tower in Gron and seeks sway o'er the world, or so we do believe.

"In recent seasons, we deem, he has been gathering Foul Folk-the Spaunen pouring across the in-between, coming from the Untargarda, the iron tower being one of the principal crossing points 'tween Neddra and Mithgar, or so we think. Drearwood would seem to hold another crossing point, or so all the signs do say." Rael paused, for both Tip and Beau frowned in puzzlement.

"Ye have questions?"

Beau looked at Tip and then made a motion as if unbuttoning his lip. "This 'Untargarda,' these 'crossing points,' and this 'in-between,' Lady Rael-I know a bit of what you're talking about, but only a bit. Could you explain the whole of it?"

"Me, too, I'd like to know," said Tip. "My da told me some, but he didn't know much of what was called for, though he did say that Foul Folk came from Neddra below, and Elves from Adonar above, and Mages from who knows where, and Warrows should simply stay put and that was that."

Rael smiled and looked from Warrow to Warrow. "All right, my wee friends, this I will say: there are many Planes of existence, but the principal three are the Hohgarda, the Mittegarda, and the Untargarda-the High Plane, the Middle Plane, and the Low Plane. And upon each of these Planes there are many worlds, though once again there are a principal three-Adonar, Mithgar, and Neddra."

Both Tip and Beau nodded, for this agreed with what they had been told.

"For the most, the Planes are separated from one another," continued Rael, "but there are crossing points where the Planes are congruent and one may go in between-in between worlds, that is-but only under certain conditions: the in-between points upon the separate worlds must be a fair match to one another, the better the match, the less difficult the crossing. Even so, there are certain times of the day when the crossings in between can be made easier still: to come from Adonar to Mithgar, dawn is best, for it is neither day nor night, but in between; and to go from Mithgar to Adonar, the crossing is best made at dusk, which again is neither day nor night, but in between; and it is said that to cross from Mithgar to Neddra, mid of day is best, for it is neither morning nor afternoon, but in between… and to come from Neddra to Mithgar, mid of night is best. Yet there are still more things which ease the passage: crossing in fog, for it is neither air nor water, but in between; crossing along a seashore, for it is neither water nor land, but in between; at the brim of a woodland, for it is neither forest nor field, but in between.

"Still yet there is more, for to make such a crossing of the in-between, one must follow a ritual: and for Elven-kind it involves a stepping rite, on foot or by trained horse, neither a walk nor a dance, but in between; and a chant, which is neither talking nor singing, but in between; and because of the ritual of chant and step, the mind becomes lost in the rite, neither wholly conscious nor unconscious, but something in between.

"And this is why we call such passages where we go from one Plane to another, from one world to another, as traveling the 'in-between.' " Rael looked at Beau and then Tip, one brow raised.

"Lor'," breathed Beau.

And Tip added, "Lor' indeed. How did you ever come to discover such an arcane practice?"

Rael smiled, saying, " 'Tis said that Elwydd Herself taught Elvenkind."

"And you say that the Foul Folk are using such a ritual to cross into Mithgar from Neddra?"

"Aye, wee one, all the signs say they are swarming across the midnight in-between by droves-Ruch, Lok, Troll, Ghulk on Helsteed, and more-at Modru's cold iron tower in Gron and mayhap in the Drearwood, too. He is gathering, has gathered, a great force of Spaunen to do his bidding. Too, it is rumored he woos Dragons to his cause, though I stress 'tis but a rumor."

"Dragons?" exclaimed Beau. "But I thought they mostly left folk alone."

Rael nodded. "All but the renegades-those who would not take the pledge."

"Ah," said Tip. "As told in the legend of Arin and Egil One-Eye." The buccan frowned a moment in concentration, then chanted:

"All must aid when Dragons raid, And only the renegades do."

And Phais intoned:

"Friend and foe, enmity must go, Or both the day will rue. "

Tip laughed and clapped his hands, saying, "Ah, Lady Phais, I see you know the Ballad of Arin, too."

"Indeed," said Phais, smiling. But then her smile vanished and she said, "Yet Dragons or no, suffice it to say that Modru has gathered Swarms of Spaunen unto himself and now makes war on High King Blaine."

"But what about Gyphon?" asked Beau. "How does He figure into this?"

Phais smiled grimly, and gestured at the walls. "That is why we have come unto this particular alcove, for the tapestry tells that tale."

"Huah," grunted Beau. "Tells the tale? All I see is someone in a dell who seems to be making a speech."

"Nay, Sir Beau," said Talarin. "Look closely."

Both Tip and Beau stood and stepped closer to the tapestry; then Beau clambered upon a bench and Tip upon a chair for a closer look still.

"Why," said Beau, "these aren't people at all, but instead are…" His voice faded as he shook his head in puzzlement, and he turned toward Talarin. "I say, what are these?"

"Beings of… light?" suggested Tipperton, reaching out to gently touch subtle colors of the silken weaving.

Beau swung back 'round and peered at the figure where Tip's fingers rested, and then at the others. "I say, Tip, they do look as if they're shafts of light… or some such."

Puzzled, Beau turned once more to Talarin. "But I thought that the gods would look like, uh…"

"Like us?" asked Talarin. "In the form of Lian and Waerlinga and Human and other such?"

Beau shrugged.

Talarin smiled and shook his head. "In spite of what some preach, 'tis the greatest of conceits for any peoples to believe they are created in the image of gods."

Tip again ran his fingers lightly across the tapestry. "And these beings of light are the gods?"

Talarin canted his head, and beside Loric, Phais said, "Indeed, Sir Tipperton. 'Tis as close as Lian artisans could come in recording the great debate 'tween Gyphon and Adon o'er the fate of the peoples of the worlds. What thou dost see as beings of light are our attempts to represent the gods: central and in silvery white is Adon, His daughter, golden Elwydd, at hand. On the wall opposite is Gyphon. Over there where thou dost stand, the pale blue figure is Garlon, next to coppery Raes, ruddy Fyrra is over here, as well as dusky Theonor. I will not name them all, but instead will merely say that this represents the time of the schism."

"These are truly the gods, then?" asked Beau, his gaze sweeping 'cross the tapestry.

Talarin and Rael and Loric glanced at one another, then all three looked toward Phais, and she said, "We name them gods, but Adon does not so style Himself. He says that there are those as far above Him as we are above the mayfly."

The buccen climbed down and resumed their seats. As he settled in, Tipperton frowned. "But if they are not gods, then what are they?"

Talarin sighed. "Given what Adon has said, we know not, Sir Tipperton. Only that they are very powerful."

"Bu-but," protested Beau, thunderstruck and staring at the tapestry. "I mean…" His words stumbled to a halt. He glanced at the ceiling then turned to Talarin. "Say, now, just who are these above Adon?"

Yet it was Rael who answered. "Adon says that even He is driven by the Fates. As to whether such beings as the Fates are in some manner incarnate, we cannot say. As to those who might be above the Fates, perhaps none are, though some say the Great Creator stands highest."

"Great Creator?"

"The source of all."

Tip's hand gestured outward, sweeping so as to include the world. "But I thought Adon made Mithgar, and Elwydd His daughter created life hereupon."

Rael nodded. "We too believe as dost thou, Sir Tipperton: that Adon indeed created Mithgar, and Elwydd, His daughter, engendered life herein; we also believe Adon shaped Adonar, but on that High World He alone brought forth all life thereon, including Elvenkind."

"Just as Gyphon created Neddra and the life and folk therein, twisted such as they are," growled Loric.

Phais held up a hand, saying, "There are those of us who believe Adon and Elwydd and Gyphon and all,the others did not bring the worlds and peoples and all else out of nothingness, but instead merely shaped and molded and forged these things out of that which the Great Creator provided."

Tip's eyes widened. "You mean like me whittling a whistle from wood I did not grow, or you weaving this tapestry from thread you did not spin?"

"Just so," agreed Phais.

Beau frowned, then appealed to Rael. "This Great Creator, just who is He? And if He creates all, then why does He create evil things? That's what I'd like to know."

Rael shook her head. "Thou dost ask that which is beyond my ken. Yet this I do believe: the Great Creator is He whose very spirit is in all things-living as well as not living-rocks, streams, trees, birds, animals, fish… all creatures of land and sea and air, and the land and sea and air itself, as well as the sun and moon and stars and light and darkness… everything… and ere ye ask, I deem His creations mayhap include Adon, Gyphon, and others whom we name gods. I believe that some gifted folk-mortal and immortal alike-can sense this spirit in their hearts and souls, while other individuals can see its aura in all things."

"Aura?" Beau looked at Rael and frowned. "Just what is this 'aura'?"

Rael smiled. "Some see it as a faint glow; others as an astral. It is but an outward sign of who the Great Creator is, an outward sign of what He does."

Again Beau frowned. "And some of what he does is create evil things?"

Rael nodded. "Indeed, Sir Beau, some of his creations are malignant, whereas many are benign, yet most are neither good nor ill but merely exist, and their effect upon others is determined at times by chance and at other times by the intent of those who employ them for good or ill. Sir Beau, thou hast asked why the Great Creator begets evil things; heed me: I believe that He knows neither good nor evil but merely creation. It is up to those creations themselves-those who can-to freely choose which path to take: sinister or dextral.

"This is, of course, what I believe. There are those who would dispute my claims, saying that all is foreordained, and this the Great Creator knows, and that none has a choice at all.

"Others believe as does Phais, that He creates some things, while others with the power to do so use His creations to shape still other things from them.

"And then there are those who say that there is no Great Creator whatsoever, and that all is ruled by laws which we do not now apprehend but which are nonetheless true, laws which govern even Adon and Elwydd and Gyphon and all else as well."

Rael fell silent, and both Tip and Beau sighed and shook their heads in bafflement. But then Tip held out a hand toward Phais. "I believe as you do, Lady Phais, that we can make things from that which Adon and Elwydd provided. Whether they themselves in turn used the creations of the Great Creator to make Adonar and Mithgar and the peoples thereupon, well, that I cannot say. Just as I cannot say that Gyphon made Neddra and the peoples therein." Now Tip turned to Rael. "Yet I also believe in something you said, Lady Rael: there is a force, a spirit, a power in everything, be it a rock, a tree, a stream, or aught else, for although I don't actually see it, I believe I sense it, and if these things I feel are evidence of a Great Creator, then He does indeed exist."

Rael looked at Tipperton and nodded in agreement, and once again Talarin took up the wine flask and replenished all silver cups with the dark Vanchan drink, saying to the buccen, "We have ranged far afield from our original intent. Is there aught else ye would ask?"

Beau looked at Tip, then turned to Phais. "Lady, you did say something about a debate and a schism."

Phais sipped from her cup, then nodded. "Indeed, for 'twas the debate which resulted in some folk being free and others being bound."

"Free and bound?" asked Tipperton. "Say, now, what was this debate all about?"

Phais gestured at the tapestry. "Long past in Adonar there was a great disputation. At question was the gods' interference in the lives of the lesser folk, of mortals and immortals alike. The two mightiest gods-Adon and Gyphon-quarreled bitterly, with Adon holding that the gods would destroy those whom they would control, and Gyphon contending that it is the right of gods to do as they will. Adon spoke eloquently, saying that gods should give free choice unto all created beings-for were they not folk in their own right which only the Fates should sway?-whereas sly-tongued Gyphon, His voice dripping honey, argued forcefully for absolute dominion in all things-for were not these worlds and inferior beings shaped by the gods' own hands for purposes only they knew? Some of the gods sided with Gyphon-Brell, Naxon, Ordo, and mayhap one or two more-but most allied themselves with Adon."

Phais paused, and Talarin said, "And that is why, my dear Waerlinga, Adonar and Mithgar are free, whereas Neddra is not, for Neddra and its peoples are creations of Gyphon, and his will holds dominion o'er all, whereas Adonar and Mithgar are the works of Adon and Elwydd."

"Forget not Vadaria, Alor Talarin," said Phais, "for it, too, is a shaping of Elwydd."

"Vadaria?" asked Beau.

"The world whence come the Mages," replied Phais. "Or did before the destruction of Rwn." As the buccen's eyes went wide, Phais added, "As Dara Rael has said, there are many Planes of existence and many worlds therein-from the world of the Hidden Ones, shaped by Elwydd but now abandoned by those folk, to the Dragonworld of Kelgor, shaped by… we know not whom… mayhap by the Great Creator Himself. Yet I stray from the gods' debate…" Phais turned to Rael.

Rael turned up a hand. "The pith of the debate was that Adon argued for the right of all peoples to freely choose the paths they would follow, whereas Gyphon spoke for the domination and control of those He named 'inferior beings.' "

Beau now stood and stepped to a different portion of the tapestry and climbed upon a chair, and Tipperton said, "I take it then that these Black Mages side with Gyphon, for as you have said, they seek dominion, control, power over others."

All the Lian nodded in agreement, and Loric said, "They have become allies of Gyphon, yet should Gyphon Himself gain the upper hand, he will utterly dominate them as well, much to their everlasting sorrow, though they believe it not."

Beau, standing on the seat, peered at the figure representing Gyphon. "Why, He isn't a pure single color at all, but instead shimmers like oil on water."

"Aye," responded Talarin. " 'Tis because He is the Great Deceiver, showing a given person or people whatever face need be until He has them in His grasp. Then and only then will His true nature show, and it is monstrous."

Hurriedly, Beau drew back from the tapestry, clambering down and resuming his chair.

"And this Modru in Gron, the Black Mage fighting against High King Blaine, he's been deceived by Gyphon?" asked Tip.

Talarin nodded, saying, "Beguiled, seduced, though he, like all the others, knows it not."

Beau frowned. "Say, now, let's get back to Tip's original question: what does all this have to do with Gyphon gaining total dominion over all of creation?"

Rael sighed. "With the destruction of Rwn, which held the only known crossing to Vadaria, the world of the Mages is sundered from Mithgar. The world of the Hidden Ones is abandoned by them, though some foulness remains behind. And although the passage to Kelgor remains open, it is said that Dragons will not be dominated by even the gods themselves, albeit Dara Arin believed and still believes the Dragonstone, ere it went down with Rwn, was one token of power which would give mastery o'er even them.

"It is said the gods themselves draw power from the very Planes. Hence, the one who controls two of the three primary Planes reigns over all. Adon is Master of the High and Middle Planes, and therefore is Master of all. Yet Gyphon rules the Low Plane, and Neddra therein. Thus, should Gyphon gain dominance o'er one of the two remaining principal worlds of either the Mittegarda or the Hohgarda-gain dominance o'er Mithgar or Adonar-then He will displace Adon, to the woe of all existence."

"Well," said Beau, "why doesn't Adon stop Him? -Stop Gyphon, I mean."

Rael turned up a hand. "Adon intervenes not in the lives or destinies of any, not even in the life of Gyphon, evil as He is."

Silence filled the alcove, none saying aught for a while. At last Tipperton looked at Rael and said, "And Modru is Gyphon's acolyte, His chief lieutenant in Mithgar?"

Rael nodded.

Tip took a deep breath and blew it out. "And so, if Modru defeats High King Blaine…"

A look of profound distress fell across Dara Rael's features. "Then Gyphon rules all, wee one. Then Gyphon rules all."