the child raised by blood kin, so he tried to reach you. You understand this?’
As Duvo stepped back, his mind reeling, the Daroth spoke again. ‘You are the sorcerer who destroyed our Life Chamber.’
He nodded dumbly, unable to think clearly. For a moment there was silence and he looked up into the face of the Daroth, then ran his gaze along the line of riders. No-one spoke. Then the Daroth leader stepped forward. ‘Here is your son,’ he said, offering the child.
Duvodas reached out and took him. His hair was dark, like Shira’s, and he could see her beauty in the lines of his face. The boy yawned and his eyes opened. In that instant Duvo heard Shira’s voice echoing in the halls of his mind. ‘I will show him to the sunrise and the sunset. He will be handsome, like you, with fair hair and green eyes. Not at first, for all babies are born with blue eyes. But they will turn grey-green as he gets older.’
‘Why should he not have beautiful brown eyes, like his mother?’ he had asked.
‘Perhaps he will,’ she had said.
The boy’s eyes were brown, and shining with the innocence only the young can ever know.
Duvodas looked up at the Daroth towering above him. ‘I thank you,’ he said.
‘The war between us is ended,’ said the Daroth.
‘Yes, it is,’ agreed Duvodas.
Without another word, the Daroth strode to his horse and mounted. The troop rode away down the hillside. Duvodas carried the child into the cabin and sat him on the floor. Rolling to his hands and knees, the boy saw the harp and crawled towards it, his chubby hand reaching
out and dragging at the strings. A jangle of discordant sounds rang out.
But within the sounds was one clear, pure note.
And, for a moment only, the scent of roses filled the room.
THE END