whole, and young …’
Lalo scarcely heard. His first sight of the vastness within had been sufficient
to send him in frantic retreat into the shadow-realm. But whence could he escape
from here? The meaning of his vision hovered on the edge of comprehension,
terrifying, tantalizing, beating at his awareness like mighty wings.
And then the wings were outside of him as well as within; the captive demon
spiralled away in pinwheels of foul sparks like burning wool and the exquisite
lattices of power within which Enas Yorl had imprisoned it were shattered by a
rift between the worlds through which dark wings sliced like swords.
Pain dismemoried and dismembered him, and Lalo’s consciousness was whirled away.
trailed by the sorcerer’s unavailing cry –
‘Sikkintair, sikkintair!’
Gilla pulled her cloak more tightly around her and hurried over the worn
cobblestones ofPrytanis Street, hoping that the patter she had heard behind her
was only wind-drifted leaves. The Jewellers’ Quarter was supposed to be safer
for foot travellers than the Bazaar, but everyone on her home ground knew that
Gilla was not worth tackling.
But of course she was, today. Nervously she fingered the bag at her neck where
the remainder of her little hoard of gold weighed so heavily. The services of
wizards came high. Gilla cursed them all; cursed Alten Stulwig for his
incompetence and Illyra the half-S’danzo who had been able to tell her only that
wizardry was somehow involved, cursed Lalo for having gotten into this mess and
most of all, cursed herself for her fear.