Sephryn held her hands out toward the weapons above the hearth. “Nyphron gave it to the two people he and Persephone trusted the most to hide and protect it. The Last Galantian and the Last Shield.” Staring at the hearth, Sephryn began circling the room, touching the stones that made up the wall, counting them as she went. Eventually she stopped and with a little effort dislodged a stone halfway up the wall. Removing it, she revealed a pocket from which she retrieved a metal box. Returning, she placed it on the table and began wiping the dust off.

“This is a gemlock box,” she said. “A special one commissioned by Nyphron, designed by Roan of Rhen, and created by the best Belgriclungreian masters. Its one purpose: to keep the Horn of Gylindora safe from Mawyndulë.”

“How does it do that?” Sheldon asked.

“The whole of it—inside and out—is engraved in Orinfar runes, making it impervious to magic. In addition, it is made from Roan’s steel, the strongest metal known to man. The walls of this box are so thick and the metal so strong that the power required to force it open without the key would also result in the destruction of its relatively fragile contents.”

Sephryn sat down once more. “This is the last thing my father gave me. This is what my son sent me to guard. This is why I have stayed hidden here in Merredydd, in this empty house, for centuries—waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Farilane asked.

“For you.”

“You said that before, but I don’t understand. I thought—well, it seemed that everyone was purposely refusing to tell me anything about you. I didn’t think you wanted to see me. And how is it you knew I was coming? Did Kile tell you?”

“Yes.”

“How did he do that?” She faced Kile, who showed no intention of speaking. “He was with me all the time, and I didn’t make the decision to come here until we were on our way.”

That sad look stole over the empress dowager’s face once more. “My dear, he told us all that you’d be coming here the day you were born.” She looked at Kile then, and her face tensed, and when she spoke, her voice shook. “I knew her birthday was coming up. I just didn’t know she’d be here tonight. I had things planned. I needed to get more wood for the fire, and to replace the candles in the bedroom—important things like that.” She bit her quivering lip, tears welling in her eyes. “At least they seemed important yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Kile said, then frowned. “I wish I could change things, but I can’t.”

“I know. I’m just scared, that’s all. I don’t know what will happen.” She wiped her eyes with shaking hands. “And you can’t tell me, can you?”