‘Not necessarily, historian. Forgive me if my careless words have alarmed you. You now fear some kind of violence to attend the union of Mother Dark and Father Light, but that is far from incumbent.’

‘I fear the violence leading to that union!’

A flicker of sorrow softened the huge man’s features. ‘Yes, the necessity for a delicate balance awaits you. I see that now. But still, be at ease. Dragons have indeed returned to the world, but they are scattered and would remain so, given the choice. The Storm is an unpleasant manifestation even for the Eleint trapped within it.’

‘Never mind that – what of the gate? What of this damned marriage?’

‘If neither resists, all will be well.’

‘And if one proves… reluctant?’

‘The mere recognition of necessity lends one wisdom, don’t you think? Enough to ease the pain of such reluctance.’ He paused, and then added, ‘At last, something manifest to give breadth to your prayers?’

‘Why, yes,’ Rise Herat snapped. ‘How thoughtful of you.’

‘Does this tapestry possess a name, by any chance?’

‘Threaded upon the back. “The Last Day”.’

‘Ah. Nothing else, then?’

‘No. I would think,’ Rise bitterly added, ‘nothing more was necessary.’

* * *

He felt her touch upon his shoulder, and then she spoke. ‘You heal quickly, my love.’

‘I was once beset in a like manner,’ Draconus said. ‘Back then, it was hounds.’ He hesitated, feeling her essence closing gently around him. ‘Hounds are cleverer than panthers. The assassin was new to his curse. He left too much to their instincts. Cats hunt in the manner of pinning or binding their prey, clinging tight, jaws about the windpipe, until the prey suffocates. But hounds… well, as I said. They are cleverer.’

‘Yet you survived both.’

He said nothing for a long moment, and then sighed heavily. ‘My love, what would you have me do?’

Mother Dark’s embrace was all-consuming, impossibly tender, and in utterly engulfing him she took away the world: the forest and standing stones, the unfinished wagon and its chains, the pools of blood upon the ground. ‘Beloved, my heart is for you. As it was, as it is, and as it shall ever be.’

He nodded. ‘As you will, then.’

‘You tremble. Does my touch hurt you?’

‘No.’

‘Then… what?’

He was thinking of the D’ivers hounds, all those centuries past. Assailing him from all sides. Even with the fullness of his power, they had nearly torn him apart. ‘Nothing of import,’ he said after a moment. ‘Just memories.’

‘Let not the past haunt you, my love. In that realm, we are all ghosts.’

‘As you say.’

She kept the world away for some time, and he was content with that.

* * *

‘They don’t look much like wolves,’ Sergeant Savarro said to her husband.

The huge man tugged at his beard. ‘Surprised they ain’t ate up those little ones we brought along.’