![]() ![]() ![]() He had stood so close to me that it was obvious that he had no fear of the taboo-no awareness of it, no more than he was aware of speaking to His Radiancy when he answered me. I had had the singular pleasure of seeing Cliopher wander in, clearly not yet entirely awake. That morning, watching the rain come down and remembering the last rain I had seen-not that last night of my other life, which had been clear, but a day or two before, when we had huddled in our tents and Pali had scolded me for not being able to adjust the weather to suit our purposes. Some nights I got no farther into the pages than that I would gaze for long moments, perhaps for hours, at those simple words: the one and only Fitzroy Angursell. When I dreamed it, I only knew that the book held my name. I had not known, of course, quite what that book was. That I was a prisoner, a wild mage held captive, seeking what freedom he could find at this remove from Imperial authority.Īnd that was to say nothing of the nights spent, behind the wall of silence as well as the bed curtains, under the soft glow of my own magelight, poring over the no-longer-hidden copy of Aurora that I had known, before I had even conceived of writing it, that I would find here. There in a palace so modest one might call it a house without blushing, on an island full of people who thought. In my defense, I had not been so fully I as I was that morning in a very long time-it had been building for days, by then, there in that place where the god of mysteries had first raised up solid land amidst the Wide Seas. ![]()
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