The bard nodded profoundly. ‘Ah yes. That is the question.’ He extended his legs straight out before himself and crossed them at the ankle, meshed his fingers over his chest. ‘One mustn’t feel constrained by the facts.’ He shot Kyle a sideways glance. ‘Poetic truth is a higher truth, you know. Names and events must be changed to disguise the mundane – and invariably disappointing – truth behind.’

Kyle smoothed his now long and drooping moustache, smiling. ‘Of course. In other words, you’ll make up what you want and claim that’s what happened.’

‘Of course. Now, tell me the tale of your finding of this stone.’

Kyle eased back among the rocks as best he could. He shot a glance high above, searching for any sign of Jethiss, then pulled his cloak tighter against the wind. ‘Well … I didn’t find it. It was given to me. Left behind by a friend.’

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

SHIMMER OPENED HER eyes to find herself once more standing among the grassy hills and broad ring of canted stone menhirs mottled orange and olive-green by lichens. It was chill, the day was bright, the sky blue and dotted with wispy clouds, yet she could not see the sun. Now she understood why she was here, and she sighed, hugged herself, and started walking a circuit of the stones.

Soon she discovered she was not alone. Smoky, the dead mage – who was not dead in truth – walked with her. His sandalled feet kicked the frayed and scorched edges of his brown woollen robes. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, resolutely not looking to her … waiting.

After a time, she asked: ‘How long have you known?’

‘We didn’t really know,’ he answered while he scratched at his patchy beard. ‘We suspected.’

‘Yet you said nothing.’

‘We would not burden the living.’

‘In which I no longer number,’ she observed, and was surprised by the lack of bitterness in her voice.

‘Yet you could return, as before. The option remains for you.’ She halted. ‘Why just me? Why not any of you?’

He stopped with her, rubbed his chin ferociously, his gaze lowered. ‘Not just you, Shimmer. K’azz was the first to discover this.’

Though she understood that she was not breathing in this place, Shimmer felt her breath catch and her chest tighten in dread – old habits. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, slowly.

Still unable to match her gaze, he said, ‘He died long ago, Shimmer. When Skinner and Cowl buried him alive – he died. Yet he did not die. He discovered the truth of the Vow then. Eventually, he clawed his way free.’

He drew a heavy breath – perhaps merely in a gesture to put her at ease. ‘I’m sorry. Anyway,’ and he shrugged, ‘had to happen some time. And we are coming back. Slowly. Eventually, we will return.’

She nodded her understanding. ‘I see. Like the T’lan Imass.’