"Unless?" Jofre asked.
"Unless you wish to make it a life burden?"
"Never a burden!" Since he had knelt to say farewell to the Lair Master in Ho-Le-Far he had not felt exactly like this. There was no question in him but what the Zacathan offered him now was all he could wish.
"Taynad Jewelbright," Zurzal seemed to need no more words from Jofre but looked past him to her.
"Not Jewelbright." She shook her head. "I think there are other roads."
"There is one we may take together," Zurzal said. "What we did on Lochan is only the beginning—there are treasures out of time beyond all reckoning—it is up to us to find our share of them!"
Jofre's bandaged hand arose—his fingers shaped "Greeting to Shadow Comrade," which seldom, if ever, in his lifetime, an oathed issha could pattern.
Taynad's hand reached into his full sight—"So let it be." Her fingers gave assent.
"We deal then no more with the shadows of others," he spoke aloud, "only those which shall be our own."
And into his wounded hand slipped a paw—a paw for Taynad also. The last link closed tight.