price an adept paid for power.
The blue glow gathered, fulminated in many-coloured patterns, pulsing and
glowing, until Lythande stood within the light; and there, in the Place That Is
Not, seated upon a throne carved apparently from sapphire, was the Master of the
Star.
‘Greetings to you, fellow star, star-born, shyryu.’ The terms of endearment
could mean fellow, companion, brother, sister, beloved, equal, pilgrim; its
literal meaning was sharer of starlight. ‘What brings you into the Pilgrim Place
this night from afar?’
‘The need for knowledge, star-sharer. Have you sent one to seek me out in
Sanctuary?’
‘Not so, shyryu. All is well in the Temple of the Star-sharers; you have not yet
been summoned; the hour is not yet come.’
For every adept of the Blue Star knows; it is one of the prices of power. At the
world’s end, when all the doings of mankind and mortals are done, the last to
fall under the assault of Chaos will be the Temple of the Star; and then, in the
Place That Is Not, the Master of the Star will summon all of the Pilgrim Adepts
from the farthest corners of the world, to fight with all their magic against
Chaos; but until that day, they have such freedom as will best strengthen their
powers. The Master of the Star repeated, reassuringly, ‘The hour has not come.
You ace free to walk as you will in the world.’
The blue glow faded, and Lythande stood shivering. So Rabben had not been sent
in that final summoning. Yet the end and Chaos might well be at hand for
Lythande before the hour appointed, if Rabben the Half-handed had his way.