![]() Odd pieces of thought rose in his mind: the plain he had looked at, Xel's face, the skins he had hung to dry. Morgon felt an odd shifting in the room, as if another vision of the same room had superimposed itself over his own, and refocused slightly. Astrin, standing across from him, grew still, a dark shape in the flickering light. But perhaps if I go deep enough, I can find your name. I haven't done much mind-work I've gone into Xel's mind, and once into Rork's, with his permission. He held Morgon gently by the arms and said slowly, "I think if this spell can make a stone speak, it may make you speak. Now if I can read his handwriting." He was silent a few moments, while Morgon read over his shoulder and the candlelight spattered over the page. I forget that sometimes, except when Rork Umber is here, and then I remember, all too well, who I am." He looked down, turned a page. So Aloil made a stone in the plain above Caerweddin speak for eight days and nights in such a loud voice that men as far as Umber and Meremont heard it, and the stone recited all Galil's secret, very bad attempts at writing poetry. Do you know that tale? Aloil was furious with Galil Ymris because the king refused to follow Aloil's advice during a seige of Caer-weddin, and as a result Aloil's tower was burned. Somewhere in here is the spell that made the stone talk on King's Mouth Plain. I wish." His voice trailed away his eyes stayed, speculative, on Morgon's face. "Your eyes look at me as though you understand everything I'm saying. But I can't go tonight the tide will be rough in this wind, and Xel hates the rain." He paused a moment. I take Xel with me, and we watch something that is building on the shores of Ymris under night cover, something for which there is no name. By night, I dig in other directions, sometimes in books of wizardry I've learned to open, sometimes out there in the darkness above Loor, by the sea. By day I go digging out of curiosity in the great ruined city of the Earth-Masters on Wind Plain. I speak to Xel, to an old man I buy fish from in Loor, to occasional traders, and to Rork, High Lord of Umber, who visits me every few months. I've been here five years in exile from Caerweddin. He said abruptly, "You are as secret as Wind Tower. ![]()
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