His eyes glistened. “Picture how this must be for the young woman. She is faced with a difficult task. She must find a way to help her friend, even though he does not wish her help. She must help him, because he has no one else and no other hope. The young woman is like you, little bird’s Nest. She has magic at her command, and she has been tested by fire. She has a strength and purpose lacking in others.”

He paused. “And so she must decide where she will stand. Because of who she is. Because, as with you and me, she has an obligation and a responsibility to do so.”

Nest shook her head in dismay. “But I don’t know what …”

A big hand came up swiftly to cut her short. “Because, if the young woman does not help him,” he said carefully, his rough voice leaning heavily on each word, “he will be lost forever.”

She nodded, her breath tight in her throat.

“Because, if the young woman fails, the lady has made other arrangements.” Two Bears leaned so close that his broad face was only inches from her own. His voice became a whisper. “She cannot allow her champion to serve another cause, one that would be harmful to her own. She cannot allow her talisman to fall into the hands of her enemies.”

There was no mistaking his meaning. It was the same message the Lady had given Ariel. If John Ross succumbed to the Void, he would be killed. But how did you kill a Knight of the Word? Who was strong enough? Who had a weapon more powerful than his?

Two Bears rose abruptly, and she with him. They stood close, looking out over the bay. The wind blew in chilly gusts off the water, causing Nest to shiver.

“As I said, it is only a story. Who knows if it is true? There are so many stories like it. Fairy tales. But the young woman reminded me of you.” Two Bears folded his massive arms. “Tell me. If you were the young woman in this story, what would you do?”

She looked up at him, tall, broad-shouldered, and implacable. She was suddenly frightened. “I don’t know.”

He smiled at her, and the smile was warm. “Don’t be so sure of that. Maybe you know better than you think.”

She took hold of his arm. “If this is only a story, then it must have an ending. Tell it to me.”

He said nothing, and his smile turned chilly. Her hands fell away. “There are many endings to this story. They change over time and with the teller. The stories of the Sinnissippi were all changed when my people perished. The endings would be different if they had survived, but they did not. I know this much. If you make the story your own, then the ending becomes yours to tell as you wish.”

He was leaving, and when he did so she would lose any chance of gaining his help. She fought down the desperation that flooded through her. “Don’t go,” she begged.