“Oh, Father-Spirit, Father-Spirit:

Must truth be vanquished by the lie?

Must orphans watch their mothers die?

Must children whimper, old men sigh

And groan? Hear us for we cry!”

As they lifted up a crushed loaf of bread to share the Singer’s Meal, light began to flood the table where they sat. The Invader swept throughout the darkened room till every niche was born in brilliance.

Anthem and Everyman fell upon their knees. Fire played upon the plaster of the lamp-smudged wall and where it danced, a vision grew. In the vision, a behemoth red dragon, chained by his great clawed feet, stood among such temples as Anthem had not seen before. But Everyman knew them well. Behind the dragon, he could see the giant gates of Urbis.

While they watched in horror, the beast devoured a peasant. Then presently the monster roared and leered from Urbis into the very souls of Everyman and Anthem. For a moment the dragon looked like it would leave the vision and walk into the little room they kept. It leered from Urbis, yet stared into their souls. Then presently it froze, turned to stone, toppled and lay dead.

Everyman and Anthem beheld themselves beneath the dragon armed with bloody swords. The vision fell away.

The Invader stirred warm inside them, as the brilliance faded till all the light was gone, except for one small lamp that burned on the table where they sat.

“Do you know the city that we saw?” asked Anthem.

“Urbis!” said Everyman.

They knew that they must leave the village near the Great Walled City of the Ancient King.

Their destiny lay across the Silver Sea in the city of the West. Urbis, capital of Terra, a city where the old woman and her scroll had never been believed. Urbis, the shining temple-city of all the mountain gods.

They consorted with the leaders of the Singerian Choirs and then made ready for their voyage.

Months like foam flew by beneath the keel. Krios came and went but not their zeal. The Song thrived well in salt breeze and halcyon seas.

XVI

If Death and Life should ever wed,

There’d be no dynasty.

Their house would fall.

For Death would offer nothing

On his rigid firm demand

That Life must give up all.

The night hung close to the sea. It seemed to Anthem that the sky and sea so loved each other that they merged and left no mark. Thus often on the trip, Earthmaker and his Singer merged into a single joy.

During the long voyage, Everyman and Anthem sang while passengers and sailors listened to the great Singer’s themes. Several in the course of weeks cried out to be unchained. One who sought but would not yield was Praxis, the Builder. He labored every day on a great brown roll of parchment on which he drew some clean black lines of stress and excavation.

“Tell me, Builder, what it is that you draw,” said Anthem