“What is it?” Tion studied the mage’s cursive script.
“Though you’re not a sorcerer, if you’ll speak these words over one of the crystals in this chamber, you’ll see what has become of me. I will speak to you and tell you what transpires.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Please, Tion. Please, say nothing. Say nothing to me; say nothing to Oron unless it is essential. I am going to Kossuth—but it will not take me two months to do it. I will see you again, in a time.” He made a move, then paused. “I know that there are many things I’d like to say to you at this moment. I know you are thinking the same things, my friend. But saying them would only flaw them.
“Now go from here. You will see me again.”
Tion nodded, put his right hand over his heart—a salute of respect—and walked out, clutching the scrap of
