Aeron tapped the rod of silver and jet that hung at her belt. "The Sceptanar's rod of office conceals your identity. The Cimbarans are accustomed to the rulership of a faceless, voiceless lord. You'll do fine. Hold the office until you find a worthy successor, and then you can leave anytime you like."
"Well, I want to go with you then."
He smiled sadly. "Someone has to put Cimbar back together," he replied.
He turned to gaze at the ruins behind them. The Broken Pyramid had been leveled by the stone's destruction. Not a single wall remained standing. A shadow passed over his heart as he thought of the dozens upon dozens of masters and students who lay somewhere beneath the rubble, victims of the cataclysm he'd unleashed. Past the wreckage, he could see workmen scuttling around the demolished wing of the Masters' Hall. The backblast through the shadow-portals had razed the Council Chamber and a great part of the surrounding building.
Melisanda followed his gaze, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It would have been worse if Oriseus had won," she said. "You did what had to be done, Aeron."
"Do you ever wonder if he slipped away at the last moment somehow? If he's really down under the ruins with the rest of his followers?" Aeron asked quietly. "Or if any pieces of the Shadow Stone survived the blast?"
Melisanda frowned, but she passed it off with a shrug. "No one will ever know, I suppose. I mean to leave the pyramid just like it is. It won't be rebuilt."
"A warning?"
"Yes. And a reminder."
He thought about that for a time. "Good," he said.
"Your sister's waiting for you." Melisanda nodded toward the old stone stair that led down to the college's boat landing. "You don't want to miss the tide." She reached up and caught his face in her hands, pulling him close for a long kiss. Aeron felt her warm tears dampen his face. "Goodbye, Aeron."
"Goodbye," he said huskily. "When you've got things in order here, come to the Maerchwood. I want you to see it with me." With one last kiss, he broke away and shouldered his pack, trotting across the open field to where Eriale and Baillegh waited.
"Are you ready?" Eriale asked.
Aeron took a deep breath. "Let's go home."
About the Author
A former naval officer, Rich has been designing games for TSR, Inc., since 1991. His game design credits include the ALTERNITY(tm) science fiction role-playing game and the BIRTHRIGHT(r) Campaign Setting. Rich is a hopeless baseball fan, devoted to the Philadelphia Phillies-a fairly hopeless baseball team. He currently resides in the Seattle area with his wife, Kim; his daughter, Alex; and another daughter (?) who's scheduled to make an appearance in July.