eternal darkness, he felt something brush past his leg-Karchanek, taking advantage of the fact that the Gate would not close immediately to escape back into his own land and place.
Then Kantor's four hooves thudded on solid turf, and he was surrounded by friends and fellow Heralds, and he realized that the basket he held did not smell of home after all. It smelled of childhood memories, yes, and of things he thought of as comforts that he had not enjoyed in a very long time. But not of home.
Home was here, in a land whose language had become his in dreams, among people who were dearer than blood-kin, who would gladly give him anything they had, including their lives.
As he would, for them.
And as for his God-well, Vkandis had shown more clearly than in words that a border was nothing more than an artificial boundary, and names were just as artificial. Vkandis had been here all along, cloaked in the hundred names for Deity that the Valdemarans had for Him; Alberich just hadn't known it in his heart until now.
'Welcome back!' said Eldan, relieving him of the basket so that he could dismount.
The relief on his face said all that he would not say aloud-that despite all of the assurances, the guarantees, the others had been wound as tight with worry as
'Better, much, than all right,' Alberich replied, the cadences of Valdemaran coming strangely-for just a moment-to his tongue. He looked around, and saw that all of the Council as well as Selenay and the Prince-Consort had surrounded Talia and Dirk to get
'How are you feeling?' Myste asked, taking his hand and looking into his eyes-perhaps looking for a sign that he regretted leaving.
'Well. More than well.' He smiled down at her. 'It is good to be home.'
