Storm Breaking

the main chamber in the center of the Tower. Master Levy already recovered, was examining the floor of that chamber on his hands and knees. He looked up as An'desha entered.

'Has anyone looked at the floor here?' he asked.

'We looked, but we didn't see anything,' the Shin'a'in replied.' Why? Have you found something?'

'Perhaps.' Master Levy got to his feet. 'When I was still studying, I used to earn spending money by designing and helping to build hidden doors and chambers for wealthy or eccentric clients. I think there might be something here.'

'Huh.' An'desha looked closely at the floor, and had to shake his head. 'I'll take your word for it. Do you think you can get it open—if there is anything there?'

'Perhaps,' Master Levy repeated. 'I'll have to examine it later, when I'm not exhausted. This is all sheer nervous energy, you see, plus a rather stupid wish to seem in better physical shape than old Sejanes, and it's all about to run out. I'm going to get a bowl of that stew I smell, and then I am going to sleep for a day.'

An'desha laughed, as Master Levy shrugged ruefully and with self-deprecation. As the Master Artificer drifted in the direction of their little charcoal stove and the bubbling stewpot atop it, he started back toward Karal. But halfway there, he turned, a little surprised, as a soft voice hailed him.

It was one of the few black-clad Kal'enedral, and with him was another wearing dark blue. The one in black he knew; Ter'hala, an old man whose blood-feud would technically never be completed, because the one who murdered his oathbrother had been Mornelithe Falconsbane. It was doubly ironic that An'desha and Ter'hala had become friends over the past few days. Ter'hala knew who and what he had been, of course. An'desha, understandably nervous, had asked him why he continued to wear black; Ter'hala had laughed and said that he was used to the color and too old to change.

'Ter'hala!' An'desha greeted him. 'Who is your friend?'

The Kal'enedral sketched a salute of greeting. 'This is Che'sera, young friend. He wished to meet you.'

An'desha bowed slightly. 'I am always honored to meet one of the servants of the Wise One,' he said politely, though he could not for the life of him imagine what had brought so many of the reclusive 'Scrollsworn'—as he called them, to distinguish them from the true Swordsworn—out of Kata'shin'a'in and their stronghold there. 'We are all truly grateful for the hospitality and tolerance you have shown to us.'

I wonder if the reason is that we've just added two more meddlers to the group, and one of them is a mage from a completely unknown land, he thought, though he kept his thoughts to himself. Not that I blame them. We're the interlopers here; the Star-Eyed gave them the keeping of this Tower and its secrets, not us.

Che'sera returned his bow. 'I am pleased to meet you, An'desha,' he replied, his voice so carefully neutral that An'desha could not read any second meaning into the words. 'It is not often that one of the Plains who goes to become a mage ever returns again.'

'It is not often that the shamans permit him to return,' An'desha replied, as calmly and carefully as he could, although he could in no way match the lack of inflection in Che'sera's voice. 'Until only recently, mages have been forbidden the Plains, even those of the People.'

'Well, and you can certainly see why,' Che'sera countered immediately, gesturing at the Tower remains about them. 'This would all have been a great temptation. Can you say, had you become a mage of the Tale'edras, that you would not have been tempted to try to use one of these weapons against the one they called Falconsbane?'

An'desha shuddered. He still had far too many of Falconsbane's memories of the life he had led using An'desha's body for comfort—and behind those memories, marched others, a seemingly endless parade of atrocities stretching back into a dim past as ancient as this Tower.

'I would,' he admitted slowly. 'I would have been tempted by anything that might have brought the monster down. Anything that would have saved others from the horror he wrought.'

Che'sera shrugged. 'And yet it took how many of you, working together, to simply use the energy of one of these weapons rather than the weapon itself?'

'And yet you permit us here now.' An'desha allowed one eyebrow to rise.

'We do, and that is in part why I wished to speak with you,' Che'sera told him. 'May we speak privately, you and I, for a little while, Shin'a'in to Shin'a'in?'

Now An'desha was considerably more surprised, and not at all certain what Che'sera had in mind. This was the first time in his reckoning that any of the Shin'a'in here had addressed him in such a fashion; most seemed uncomfortable with the concept of a Shin'a'in who was also a mage, and some seemed of the personal opinion that his half-foreign blood made him more alien than Shin'a'in. 'Certainly, if that is what you wish.' He nodded toward the sleeping chamber. 'My friend Karal is asleep in there; he will not hear us, and if we speak quietly, we will not disturb him. I fear that is the most privacy I can offer, as it is in somewhat short supply here despite the vastness of the place.'