" A cenotaph," mused the young mage. " We can create one out there, on the plain in front of Wurnna."
" I suppose there are some bodies lost, but don' t you need to know the name for the consecration? It' ll take weeks to determine who has died and which corpses are which. Oh, Lan, that' ll take as long as hiking to the cenotaph Krek ' sees.' "
" We think in terms far too narrow. What to us is a hero is to our enemies a villain."
" So?"
" It is true the other way, also. A villain to us is a hero to our enemies."
" I don' t see- no, Lan. You can' t do this. I hate him. I was angry when you denied me the chance to kill him."
" You would consecrate a cenotaph to Alberto Silvain?" asked Krek. " What a novel idea."
" There is more to it than novelty, Krek. Silvain' s fortunes were linked with Claybore' s. Properly done, the cenotaph will continue to link their fortunes, and this world with the one chosen by Claybore. It is the only way we have of finding him among the myriad worlds along the Road."
Rugga stood, looking perplexed. For Jacy Noratumi' s part, he had no idea at all what the others argued over. But both had arms around the other. The fortunes of two destroyed cities, Bron and Wurnna, were now as one.
Lan Martak left them behind to walk slowly to the edge of the black pit he had formed. Into this vortex of darkness Silvain had fallen. The flames of his life had been snuffed out for all eternity and his body irretrievably lost in a fashion that not even Lan Martak understood. Perhaps the all- knowing Resident of the Pit might have been able to trace Silvain' s course through the universe, but the Resident resided on Lan' s home world, many worlds away.
Lan' s hand rested on the closed grimoire he carried within his tunic. After a moment' s pause, he knew he had no need to refresh his memory about the summoning spell or the proper method of consecration.
He began the chant, now surprisingly easy when uttered with the tongue that had once belonged to Claybore.
Inyx waved to Rugga and Noratumi as they stood in the wrecked gateway leading to the ruins of Wurnna. Then she turned and waved to the tiny dot on the top of the distant mountaintop. She thought the speck waved a furred leg in response, but she wasn' t certain. Murrk and the humans remaining had come to an uneasy truce, but one which would grow into trust.
" Will the spiders honor the treaty?" she asked.
Lan didn' t answer. Krek did.
" Murrk is honorable. He is Webmaster, after all. And if Jacy and Rugga keep the dam in fine repair and keep the stream in the valley to a mere trickle, there is no reason why Murrk will not allow mining of the power stone in his valley. It is all so simple now."
Krek turned and pointed with his long front leg. " The cenotaph opens."
" Silvain," muttered Inyx, remembering the foul deeds he had committed. But Lan had been correct. Silvain' s courage in assuming the magical guise given by Claybore to attack an entire city filled with sorcerers had been strong enough to open the pathway between worlds.
" Ready?" asked Lan Martak.
" Is this truly the world where Claybore walks?"
The mage shrugged his shoulders. His powers had grown, but there were some- many- questions he had no answer for.
" Let us leave this fine world behind," said Krek. The spider boldly entered the simple stone cairn, wavered for a moment, and vanished from sight.
Lan Martak took Inyx' s hand, squeezed it, and then led the way. They, too, shimmered as if caught in summer heat, felt the gutwrenching shift to another world, then came out ready to pursue their adversary.
Claybore would not prevail. Not while they walked the Cenotaph Road.
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