“As well as any knocking at the void. He suffers. He burns.  King Rand is strong but his spirit slackens. Fulcruchen’s perception was not amiss.”

            “How did you—” 

            “It’s not important,” interrupted the Gibbor, “But be easy, you don’t have a spy in your midst. As for your father, he longs for a path in the Deep.”

            His son let out a sigh. “I’ve come to lay down arms. I’ve come to end the war. As for the Eld Forest, will a truce, nay, a solemn vow, never to enter again and to defend her against those who would cause harm, lift the anathema?”

“It would be a start. Once the truce is in effect, I’ll call my Brethren of the Blue Stone and begin the rite to lift the curse.”

            “Let it begin now. Providing, of course, you’ve accepted my terms.”

            The Seer nodded. “I accept, but first you must kneel.”

            The Warrior King favored the Gibbor with a shrewd look. “Is there pleasure in humbling a King?”

            “It’s not to me you kneel, but to Jah. I’m merely his vassal. I desire no man’s tribute, but if it’s humbling you chafe at—” Abruptly, the Seer of the Blue Stone fell to his knees. “As the High King of Casoria, chosen city of Jah, I render you the respect and honor due your crown, and as much allegiance as I can give any man. Know also that it’s my deepest desire that our purposes never cross again.”

            Ranald stared down at the man kneeling before him, noting the thinness of his neck. No, he wasn’t a warrior, not as Ranald knew them, but the King doubted he could kill him all the same. He probably couldn’t even break the slim chain he wore. What a strange, slight man this was!

            “Accepted,” said Ranald, and the Seer rose. There was an awkwardness as they faced one another but relief as well. Pride to the Warrior was no longer such a heavy thing. “There is a sect in my city that swears total allegiance to Jah, yet they consider it blasphemy to pray or speak his name. Work is their salvation,” Ranald confided, almost smiling. “They call themselves the Shivelites. When I wasn’t engaged in the field or at my war table, I thought of them and thought them a puzzle. What do you think?”

            “I think there are many lost souls.”

            A shadow crossed the King’s face, fleet and sharp. He dropped to his knees.            

“My father will soon be one. Let the cleansing begin.”