'Listen, you have all of Silverdun's memories, all of his feelings, all of his emotional detritus. You have all of his Gifts. You're him, more or less. More, really, since you're stronger, faster, more powerful, and you can be brought back from the dead. I'd like to see the old you try that.'
'But ... what about the soul?' said Silverdun.
'How the hell should I know? Have I ever given you any indication that I might be a philosopher?'
'So,' said Silverdun, understanding everything Jedron had told him, but not accepting it. 'Ironfoot?'
'The same.'
'And Paet?'
'Yes. And I as well. And scores of others down through the centuries. I'll admit, I found it a bit troubling at first, but once I realized it didn't make a rat's shit worth of difference, I got over it. So will you.'
'What about Sela?' asked Silverdun. 'She was never brought here.'
'No.'
'Why not?'
Jedron thought about it. 'We were afraid to,' he said. 'The man who made her what she is did a far better job than I ever could. To do to her what we did to you could have been ... disastrous.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'None of your damn business.'
Jedron spat into the pit and turned away. 'Let's go,' he said.
'How long have you been here, Jedron?' Silverdun asked.
'Four hundred years or thereabouts. I stopped counting a long time ago. But I think I might retire soon. Get a little cottage somewhere, with some trees. I miss the trees.' He stopped and stared into the distance. 'Honestly, the caliber of trainee they've been sending me the past few decades has made me fear for the future of Faerie.'
'Shocking.'
'Who knows?' said Jedron. 'Maybe I'll teach you all my secrets one day, and you can take my place.' He stroked his beard. 'On second thought, I'd probably pick Ironfoot over you. He's a bit brighter.'
'Wait,' said Silverdun. 'What happened to Paet? If we're so indestructible, why isn't he still active? Why does he have a limp?'
'Bel Zheret got to him five years ago. Ripped out most of his spine, ate part of his brain. You can regenerate most things, as I believe you've noticed, but you're not invincible. So don't go thinking you are. If you die out there and aren't brought back, well ... Paet didn't bring you here because I missed you. And don't even ask what I had to do in order to bring you back. To say it's a Black Art doesn't even begin to describe it.'
He clapped Silverdun on the shoulder, the only mildly friendly thing Silverdun had ever seen him do. 'Now let's get going. Paet's waiting down at the dock.'
Silverdun looked down into the pit, thinking. 'You'll never have that cottage, will you? You can't ever leave Whitemount, not with the things you know.'
Jedron looked at him, serious. 'No,' he said. 'When I get too sick of it to stand it another day, I imagine I'll walk into the ocean and drown myself. And if Paet tries to revive me, I'll slit his throat.'
'Thank you, Jedron,' said Silverdun.
Jedron punched him in the face.
Silverdun is having an excellent time at the cafe until he looks up and spies his mother. She is moving toward him very slowly, glaring at him the way she once did when she caught him doing things he oughtn't. He rises from the table and staggers toward her, nearly falling. He's had quite a bit to drink.
He meets her at an empty table halfway, and they sit together.
'Who's your new lady?' comes the drunkenly stupid voice of one of his friends. He waves it away.
'Mother, what in the name of Auberon's pale ass are you doing here?'
'Language, Perrin,' she says primly.
Silverdun sighs. 'What in the name of Auberon's pale hindquarters are you doing here, then?'
'I can see that I should have sent a sprite ahead of me.'
