“What if he’s right?” She craned her neck to look up at him. “What if the Dwarfs did choose wisely in choosing Yrinna’s Peace? Might we not do the same? Are we wrong to defy the will of Haomane?”

A nictitating membrane flickered over the dragon’s left eye. “What is right, Liliasss?”

“Right,” she said irritably. “That which is not wrong.”

“In the beginning,” Calandor rumbled, “there was Uru-Alat, and Uru-Alat was all things, and all things were Uru-Alat—”

“—and then came the Beginning-in-End, and the Seven Shapers emerged, and first of all was Haomane, Lord-of-Thought, who was born at the place of the Souma and knew the will of Uru-Alat,” Lilias finished. “I know. Is it true? Does Haomane speak with the World God’s voice? Are we wrong to defy him?”

The dragon bent his sinuous neck, lowering his head. Twin puffs of smoke jetted from his nostrils. “You quote the catechism of your childhood, little ssisster, not mine.”

“But is it true?”

“No.” Calandor lifted his head, sighing a sulfurous gust. “No, Liliasss. You know otherwise. These are things I have shown you. The world began in ending, and it will end in beginning. Thisss, not even Haomane Firsst-Born undersstands. What he grasspss is only a portion of Uru-Alat’ss plan, and his role in it is not as he thinksss. All things mussst be Ssundered to be made whole. It is not finished … yet.”

“Calandor,” she said. “Why did you tell such things to Satoris Third-Born, yet not to Haomane First-Born?”

“Because,” the dragon said. “He asssked.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. At length, Lilias said, “Is that why Haomane despises him?”

The dragon shifted. “Perhapss, Liliasss. I cannot sssay.”

“Between them, they will tear the world asunder anew,” she said in a low voice.

“Yesss,” Calandor agreed. “One in his pride, one in his defiansse. Sso it musst be. All things change and transsmute, even Shapers. They play the roles they mussst.”

“Do they know?” she asked.

Calandor blinked once, slowly. “Sssatoriss knows.”

In the unseasonal warmth she shivered, wrapping her arms about herself, pressing her body against the scaled forelimb. Even the forge-heat of the dragon’s body could not dispel her chill. “Calandor, what of us? What happens if we fail?”

“Fail?” There was amusement in the dragon’s deep voice. “What is failure?”

“RIGHT.” THE CAPTAIN OF THE Ilona’s Gull scratched his stubbled chin, running a calculating eye over Carfax’ company. “My bargain was for twenty men, not horses. ’Specially not these horses. Reckon they’ll wreak right hell in my hold if the crossing’s rough, won’t they?”

In the bright sunlight of Harrington Bay, the measures taken to disguise the horses of Darkhaven held up poorly. Even with burred manes and ill-kept coats, their eyes gleamed with preternatural intellect, muscles gliding like oil under their bunching hides.