This year was only different in that lethargy reached almost epidemic proportions, with further snowfalls conspiring with over-indulgence to impede all forms of physical effort.
Orthlund’s great healer fared little better than his charges for the first few days, but towards the end of the week the relentless clump of Gulda’s stick prowling the corridors of Anderras Darion began to remind him, and others, of the virtues of diligent application to useful tasks.
It was not, however, the immediate threat of Gulda’s caustic presence that galvanized Hawklan abruptly, nor the knowledge that the spectre which had avoided the feast was still there to be faced. It was an Alphraan voice speaking softly in his ear.
‘Hawklan, come quick,’ it said, simple and clear, though in a tone filled with nuanc
