Antyr shook his head. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But not by me. I...’ He stopped abruptly, realization dawning on his face. ‘I escaped because one of them wanted me to. Before Tarrian and Grayle came, one of them said, “You shall be my Guide.”’ He shuddered at the memory of the malevolent desire in the voice. ‘But the other one cried out, “No!” and...’ He closed his eyes again in concentration. ‘Put his blade between us... I’m sure.’
Pandra, however, did not appear to be listening. ‘Yes,’ he muttered to himself as he ran his finger down successive pages rapidly. ‘There’s a lot of ifs and maybes and buts here. Mynedarion are manifestations of aberrant streams in the flux of the Nexus, whatever that means. They’re distortions in the dreamer’s Nexus ordering produced by adverse Companion reaction...
