When Salamander held out the crystal, Laz took it in both of his maimed hands, using them like a pair of tongs to set it down on the ground in front of him. He leaned over and stared down through the square-cut tip. After some little while he swore with a shake of his head.

“When I think of the book,” Laz said, “the interior of the crystal changes to a thick black darkness. I suspect I’m seeing the inside of Wynni’s saddlebags.”

“Not very helpful, then.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I felt my mind touch those spirits attached to the book. I have no idea, though, if they knew it did.”

“They might have. If they’re Spirits of Aethyr, they’re more highly developed than most. I suspect that this crystal and its brother are attuned to Aethyr, too. May I ask you where you came upon the white one?”

“In the ruins of Rinbaladelan.” Laz grinned, a gesture sharp as a knife-edge, as if he were expecting a reaction.

Salamander saw no reason to deny him. He whistled under his breath in sheer surprise.

“I went there on a whim,” Laz continued, “just to see what I could see, which wasn’t much. The city’s been taken back by the forest. The walls are split, the streets crumbled, the towers fallen, and over everything grows trees and ivy and the like. I was poking around, pulling off a vine here, a cluster of weeds there, and along one wall I poked too hard. It started to collapse, and when the dust cleared, lo! I saw the remains of a wooden casket. Inside was the white crystal.”

“You found it just like that?” Salamander said. “By chance?”

“Not chance.” Laz frowned, remembering. “Someone or something had left a trail. Some of the underbrush was cleared away or trampled down, so it was easier to walk up to that particular wall. And the casket itself looked big enough to hold a pair of crystals, but only one remained.”

“I think we can guess who made that trail.”

“Evandar?”

“So I suspect. Very well, you found the crystal he left for you—”

“Oh, ye gods!” Laz stared, the grin gone. “How would he have known I was going to go there?”

“From what Dalla’s told me,” Salamander said, “Evandar knew a great many things about the future. Unfortunately, they were all small details, mere glances, glimpses, and flashes of things to come, like lines snatched randomly from a long poem. So he saw naught wrong with trying to arrange those fragments into the tale he wanted told. I’d wager high that he saw someone finding that crystal. Whether or not he saw you in particular, who knows?”

“Very well, then.” Laz’s grin came back, but as brittle as glass. “And here I thought I was being so clever!”

“Evandar played a great many tricks on a great many clever people. Don’t let it trouble your heart.”