Sunset. Fire in the west, clouds in raging flame. The sky a wealth of unusual colors. A chill breeze from the north, just enough to shiver and refresh. My guardian stayed well away, permitting the illusion of freedom. I walked to the northern parapet.

There was little evidence of the great battle fought below. Where once trenches, palisades, earthworks, and siege engines had stood, and burned, and tens of thousands had died, there was parkland. A single black stone Stella marked the site, five hundred yards from the Tower.

The crash and roar returned. I remembered the Rebel horde, relentless, like the sea, wave after wave; smashing upon unyielding cliffs of defenders. I recalled the feuding Taken, their fey and fell deaths, the wild and terrible sorceries…

"It was a battle of battles, was it not?"

I did not turn as she joined me. "It was. I never did it justice."

"They will sing of it." She glanced up. Stars had begun to appear. In the twilight her face seemed pale and strained. Never before had I seen her in any but the most self-possessed mood.

"What is it?" Now I did turn, and saw a group of soldiers some distance away, watching, either awed or aghast.

"I have performed a divination. Several, in fact, for I did not get satisfactory results."

"And?"

"Perhaps I got no results at all."

I waited. You do not press the most powerful being in the world. That she was on the verge of confiding in a mortal was stunning enough.

"All is flux. I divined three possible futures. We are headed for a crisis, a history-shaping hour."

I turned slightly toward her. Violet light shaded her face. Dark hair tumbled down over one cheek. It was not artifice, for once, and the impulse to touch, to hold, perhaps to comfort, was powerful. "Three futures?"

"Three. I could not find my place in any."

What do you say at a moment like that? That maybe there was an error? You accuse the Lady of making a mistake.

"In one, your deaf child triumphs. But it is the least likely chance, and she and all hers perish gaining the victory. In another, my husband breaks the grasp of the grave and reestablishes his Domination. That darkness lasts ten thousand years. In the third vision, he is destroyed forever and all. It is the strongest vision, the demanding vision. But the price is great… Are there gods, Croaker? I never believed in gods."

"I don't know, Lady. No religion I ever encountered made any sense. None are consistent. Most gods are megalomaniacs and paranoid psychotics by their worshipers' description. I don't see how they could survive their own insanity. But it's not impossible that human beings are incapable of interpreting a power so much greater than themselves. Maybe religions are twisted and perverted shadows of truth. Maybe there are forces which shape the world. I myself have never understood why, in a universe so vast, a god would care about something so trivial as worship or human destiny."