“My Lord Satoris.” Tanaros touched the hilt of the black sword at his waist “This is all I need. This is all I have ever needed”

OVERHEAD, THE STARS CONTINUED THEIR slow, inevitable movement.

In the desert, Ngurra raised his voice. “I hear you, old woman!”

She made an irritated noise, emerging from the spindly shadows of the thorn-brush to join him on the cooling rock. “You’ve ears like a bat, old man!”

He worked a wad of gamal into his cheek, smiling into his beard. “Bats hear much that is hidden from other ears.”

The red star had risen on the western horizon, riding higher than before. Warabi settled herself beside him, joints creaking. Together, they watched the stars revolve around the basin of Birru-Uru-Alat and the cleft rock-pile in its center. Alone among the old ones gathered at the Stone Grove, they kept the watch. As for the rest of the Yarru-yami, they were dispersed among the Six Clans. At Dry Gulch and Owl Springs, at Blacksnake Bore, Ant Plains and Lizard Rock, the Yarru had gone to earth.

“So it comes,” she said with sorrow.

“It comes.” He nodded, shifted the gamal wad into his other cheek. It fit neatly into a pocket there alongside his gums, teeth and tongue teasing out the bittersweet juices that sharpened the mind. “They have a choice, old woman. They all have a choice. Even the one who comes with a sword.”

“I know.” Her voice was muffled, gnarled fingers covering her face. “Ah, Ngurra! It is such a short time we have.”

“Old woman!” His hands encircled her wrists, swollen by a lifetime of digging and labor. “Warabi,” he said, and his voice was gentle. “An eternity would not be enough time to spend with you. But it has been a good time.”

Lowering her hands, she looked at him. “It has.”

“The children,” he said, “are safe.”

“But who will teach them if we perish?” Her eyes glimmered in the starlight. “Ah, Ngurra! I know what must be. I know we must offer the choice. Still, I fear.”

He patted her hands. “I too, old woman. I too.”

She stared at the stars. “The poor boy. Where do you think he is tonight?”

He shook his head. “The Bearer’s path is his own, old woman. I cannot guess. He has chosen, and must choose again and again, until his path finds its end.”

THE DWARF SHIP DOCKED AT Port Delian, on the southern coast of Pelmar.

Carfax had the impression that the Dwarfs were glad to be rid of them, for which he did not blame them. Malthus’ Company had breached Yrinna’s Peace, destroying it irrevocably. As a war-proud Staccian in the service of Lord Satoris, he’d never had much use for peace.

Captivity had begun to change his perspective.