RESPONDING TO AN urgent summons from the Chambelán, Beroald climbed the spiraling stairs to the throne room atop the Black Tower. Outside the heavy wooden door, he lifted the scarab knocker and let it drop. This time, the command to enter was immediate. Opening the door, he stepped inside. And stopped.
At the far end of the room, the Chambelán, red-robed and hooded, stood gazing into the Black Pool. The eight Watchers still ringed the pool. But each now lay unmoving, sprawled as if they had collapsed where they sat.
As Beroald approached the Chambelán, he examined the pool. Its surface was no longer a uniform black. It now showed a brilliant blaze of light in its center, like a miniature star. Silver cords of light undulated outward from the central brightness, like glowing ribbons wavin
