Her face was calm. “Then why do you fear it, Tanaros? Why am I here, if the Prophecy is a lie? Why not let me wed Aracus Altorus in peace?”

“Is that what you would bring us here in Darkhaven?” he asked her. “Peace?”

At that, she looked away. “The Lord-of-Thought knows the will of Uru-Alat.”

“No!” Tanaros clenched his fist against his thigh, forced himself to breathe evenly. “No, he doesn’t. Haomane knows the power of thought, that’s all. The leap of water in the stream, of blood in the vein, of seed in the loins … these things are Uru-Alat too, and these things Haomane First-Born knows not. That is the core of truth he has Shaped into the lie of the Prophecy.”

Cerelinde composed herself. “The other Shapers disagree, General.”

“Do they?” Tanaros caught a bitter laugh in his throat and pointed to the moon. “See there, my lady. Arahila’s moon sheds its blessing on Lord Satoris’ garden.”

Her gaze was filled with compassion. “What would you have me say? Arahila the Fair is a Shaper, Tanaros. Not even the Sunderer is beyond redemption in her eyes.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Oh, Cerelinde! Don’t you understand ? Any of the Shapers, any of the Six, could leave Torath and cross the Sundered divide. They will not.” He raised his chin, gazing at the stars. “They will not,” he said, “because they fear. They fear Haomane’s wrath, and they fear their own mortality. Even Shapers can die, Cerelinde. And they fear to tread the same earth where Godslayer abides.”

“Is that the lesson of the garden?” Her grey eyes were cool, disbelieving.

“No.” Tanaros pointed to the mortexigus flower. “That is. Lady, any Son of Man would do to serve your need. In our very mortality, we hold the keys to life. We hold the Gift Lord Satoris can no longer bestow, the key to the survival of the Rivenlost. Your people and mine conjoined. That is the truth of the Prophecy, the deeper truth.”

She frowned and it was as though a cloud passed over the moon’s bright face. “I do not understand.”

“Do the numbers of the Ellylon not dwindle while those of Men increase?” he asked her. “So it has been since the world was Shaped. Without Lord Satoris’ Gift, in time the Ellylon will vanish from the face of Urulat.”

“Now it is you who lies,” Cerelinde said softly. “For the Lord-of-Thought would not allow his Children to be subsumed, not even by fair Arahila’s.”

Tanaros held her gaze. “Why, then, does Haomane’s Prophecy bid you to wed one?”

Her winged brows rose. “To unite our people in peace, Tanaros. Aracus Altorus is no ordinary Man.”

“Aye, Cerelinde, he is. As I am.” Tanaros sighed, and the sorrow-bells murmured in mournful reply. “The difference is that the House of Altorus has never faltered in its loyalty to Haomane First-Born.”