After kissing the queens, I arranged the stones in their proper formations, snuffed out all the candles save one, and took up my place before the board. Closing my eyes, I chased away all thoughts and concentrated on my breathing. With the first dizzying tingle of weightlessness, I opened my eyes.
This time was different than those that had come before. It was not a battle the gods were communicating, but something else. I stared past the stones I had so precariously procured until the knots and grain of the wood platter formed pictures, just as the clouds had when I would watch them as a child from the hillsides around Northgallis.
I saw Mordred pacing the halls of Camelot like a caged wolf waiting to be let out. Then I saw him barring the gate and filling the walls to the brim with a
