For a moment Oslang stood stunned, then he seized Andawyr’s arm powerfully. ‘What are you doing?’ he said, his voice hoarse with fear and disbelief.
The white light faltered, and Andawyr rounded on him angrily. But with a further effort, Oslang managed to drag the smaller man away. The light faded completely and almost immediately Andawyr’s face became apologetic. He put his hand to his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That awful — thing — I just want to...’ He drove his fist into his palm.
‘I understand,’ Oslang said. Then, with a faint smile: ‘You always were inclined to be a little physical.’
Most of the tension faded from Andawyr’s face and he too smiled, though sadly. ‘No, you don’t,’ he said. ‘And I pray you never do.’ He paused. ‘Why do you think I’ve put off coming down here so long
