“I have Seen things.” She kept the cloak tight at her neck though braziers and
windows made the sanctum one of the more comfortable private rooms in the
palace. “Torchholder- it’s getting worse, not better.”
“Sit down, then, and tell me what you’ve Seen,” He dragged his own chair around
to the front of the worktable for her. “Hoxa! Get some mulled cyder for the
lady!” Propping himself against the table, he addressed her with calculated
familiarity. “Since the… accident?”
“That night.”
“You said you Saw nothing,” he chided her.
“Not about Arton or the other boy; not something I even noticed or understood at
the time. But the others have felt it too.” She pulled the cloak close around
her; Molin understood that once again Illyra was violating some S’danzo taboo
with her revelations. “There are stones-spirit stones-from the times before men
needed gods. When they were lost that was when the S’danzo were born and when
men began to create gods from their hopes and needs….
“If men possessed these stones again there would be no need for gods.”
She paused when Hoxa came into the room with two goblets.
“Thank you, Hoxa. I won’t be needing you again tonight. Take the rest of the
cyder and have a pleasant evening.” Molin handed Illyra the goblet himself. “You
think that with these stones we could free your son and Gyskouras?” he suggested
when it seemed she would say no more but only stare at the twisting plumes of
steam.
Illyra shook her head. Tears or the fragrant vapor of the cyder had smeared the
kohl under her eyes. “It’s been too long. One of the lost stones was invoked and