Tarin drew himself up to his full height, and the kestrel flew up and re-alighted on his shoulder. It looked intently at Voran, as though trying to think something at him. Tarin intoned.
“The art of story is sacred and old,
So, teller, beware, lest your heart be revealed,
For the power of words can turn iron to gold
Or bind fetters as fast as the roots of the elm.”
The hag repeated the incantation through gritted teeth. Tarin raised his staff and began to tell his story.
The Tale of the Sirin and the Child
In ages when the earth was untamed and curious as an infant, men were yet a thought in the mind of the Heights. Strange and magnificent creatures inhabited the earth. Wardens of this wild earth were the Sirin, highest of the natural creation, fiercely beautiful and glorious. The S
