pass by in a wagon, and was so smitten by her that the next time he was in Stonehill he asked after her, and met her, and events went their natural way.'
'Well, then, what if your da had chosen to deliver the flour a different day? Perhaps, bucco, you wouldn't have been born, we wouldn't have met, and there'd be no one to deliver the coin to King Agron, and the whole course of the war would have been changed because of it. So, it's because of your da's choice to deliver flour that day, and your dam's choice to be riding in the wagon, that the entire war will be won.'
'Oh, I do hope you're right, Beau. -About the war being won, that is.'
A silence fell between them as they filled water skins. But then Beau said, 'Oh. Here's another one. And this one is about a choice even further back-one made two thousand or so years ago. Imagine this: what if Lord Talarin and Lady Rael had never decided to settle Arden Vale way back when they did. Wull then, we wouldn't have been rescued those two thousand years later by Vanidor and Loric and such. And that means we wouldn't get to deliver the coin, and who knows what would have happened then?'
Tip's eyes widened, then narrowed, and he said, 'Listen, bucco, we still haven't delivered the bloody coin. What if we never do?'
'Oh, Tip, don't say such things.' And the wee buccan looked over his shoulder, as if attempting to see dark fate lurking in the shadows behind.
'Or how about this one?' said Beau to Tip at breakfast the next morn. 'When Gyphon and Adon had their debate long past, who then could have known the consequences? I mean, here we are involved in a struggle, one that may be a direct result of that quarrel.'
Phais looked up from her tea. 'Indeed, I never thought then that the disputation, though bitter, would lead to the darkness which followed.'
Tip's eyes flew wide, but ere he could say aught, Beau asked, 'Darkness? You mean the war, eh?'
'That and more,' replied Phais. 'For Gyphon not only ruled the Low Plane, He also seduced others on other Planes unto His unworthy cause, and these became Black Mages and rovers and ravers-any who were won over to His precept that the strong shall take whatever they wish to gratify their desires, regardless of the consequences to those they take from.'
Phais fell silent, but Tip said, 'Lady, did I hear you right, that you never thought then that the disputation, though bitter, would lead to the darkness which followed?'
Phais nodded.
'But then, I mean,' stammered Tip, 'that is, by putting it that way, it makes you sound as if you were there. I mean, there during the debate itself.'
Phais smiled gently. 'I was there, wee one. Indeed, I was there.'
Now Beau's mouth fell open. 'In the glade with the gods? Oh, my. Oh, oh, my.'
'Then you actually witnessed what we saw depicted on the tapestry in Talarin's hall?'
Phais turned up her hands and said, 'The artisans who wove it did so from my description.'
'Oh, my,' said Beau again.
Tip took a long pull on his mug of tea. 'I see what you mean by unforeseen consequences arising from things long past.'
'Are they really beings of light?' blurted Beau. 'The gods, I mean?'
Phais turned to the buccan. 'That is how they seemed to me, Sir Beau, as beings of light; yet 'tis said that each one sees them differently.'
'Oh, my,' said Beau, his eyes wide and gazing at Phais as if she were somehow touched by the gods themselves.
Phais laughed and stood. ' 'Tis time we were on our way.'
That morning as they rode southward through the vale, with Tip practicing on his lute and Beau, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment, prattling about unforeseen consequences of even the simplest acts, and he kept up a running chatter with Tipperton:
'I mean, I could jump up a coney and it run into the jaws of a fox and the fox not raid a henhouse and the farmer sell the nonstolen hen to a sailor who would take it across the sea to Jung or another one of those faraway places, where it lays eggs which are sold to a peddler who in turn sells them to a royal cook, who prepares them wrong and as a result a king or emperor or some such dies, and then the realm falls into ruin… all because I kicked up a coney one day.'
After perhaps the hundredth example-where a sneeze in the Boskydells resulted in the total destruction of the moon-Tipperton stopped chording his lute and said, 'Oh, Beau, I just remembered: Jaith told me to tell you my da's tale of the curious fly and the sleeping giant.'
'That's right, she did,' said Beau. 'Though I don't remember why.'
'Well, bucco, it was right after you had declared we were country bumpkins and totally inconsequential.'
Beau shook his head. 'Haven't you been listening to me, Tip? I mean, I don't believe that anymore. Look, if a sneeze in the Bosky can destroy the moo-'
'Yes, yes,' interrupted Tip. 'But I'll tell you the tale regardless.' And before Beau could object, Tip began:
'It seemed there was this curious fly, and a very clever fly at that, who wanted to travel the world and see all it could see in the time allotted to its short life. Well, one day it came across the greatest fortress it had ever seen. Huge it was, with solid stone walls hundreds of feet high and set on a sheer-sided headland above the rolling waves of a sea. Formidable it was, this mighty bastion, and it belonged to a great giant, and none had ever conquered it, though several fools had tried, for 'twas rumored that there was a great hoard within.
'Now on this spring day when the fly flew by, the windows were open wide, for the giant's wife was airing the bedchambers to clear out the winter just past. 'Well, as long as they're open,' says the fly to itself, 'I think I'll see what's within, for I've certainly never been to such a large and fine and invincible fortress in all my life.' And so the fly, curious as ever, flew through the window and in.
'Inside the fortress were many fine chambers and even one laden with gold, for the rumors were true, you see. And the fly coursed throughout the whole of the fortification, its jewellike eyes sparkling with wonder at all the greatness revealed. But in the kitchen the fly came across the greatest apple pie it had ever hoped to see, and it settled down for a meal.
'Long did it eat, filling its tiny belly, for it had been awhile since the fly had supped on such fine repast, its last splendid meal a days-old dead rat gloriously rotting in the sun.
'As you may suspect, with its stomach full near to bursting, the fly became drowsy. And so, up behind the warm chimney it flew to settle down for a nap.
'Some time later it seems, the fly awoke, eager to see the rest of the world. 'I'll fly up the chimney,' it said to itself, but a fire yet burned in the stove. 'Not to worry,' said the fly, 'I'll just go out the way I came in.' And so it flew back to the bedchamber window, but lo, the sash had been slammed to, for the giant's wife had aired out the entire stronghold and every window and door was now shut tight.
' 'Oh, woe is me,' said the fly to itself. 'Now I will never get to see the other great wonders of the world.'
'But then it espied the monstrous giant himself, taking an afternoon nap on the bed.
'Now this particular fly, although of small stature and seemingly insignificant, was a very clever fly, and so it devised a scheme to escape from this unbreachable bastion.
'Down it flew to the sleeping monster and landed on the giant's immense face, where it began licking and daubing spittle on the behemoth's left cheek, right at the rim of the eye.
'Slap! went the giant against his own face, but the fly evaded the blow. And once again the fly settled to the giant's left cheek and daubed oozing spittle again.
'Slap! The giant struck another open-handed smack, once more missing, though this time the blow nearly succeeded. The fly's plan, you see, was not without risk, yet it was desperate to escape.
'Slap! struck the giant, and Slap! again, and Slap! and Slap! and Slap! each time coming closer and closer. Yet the fly was wily and persistent.
'By now the giant was fully awake and totally enraged, and he bellowed at the tiny fly, his voice a thunderous boom. And he leaped out from his bed and, raving, began pursuing the pest about the bedchamber and swinging his great fists.
'This was just what the fly wanted, for the monster was trying to kill it. And so the fly lit on the wall nigh the
