‘O’phanim, you sought a word?’

A final word.

Two figures meet atop the long stair of Fallstone Harbour. The twilight pinks those twisted, ancient walls that rise off land and sea, casting a glitter on the gulf.

‘It is, I must presume, to be farewell,’ the tall man says.

She, as tall as he, replies: For the foreseeable future.

‘All my warnings are spent.’

As are my questions. Now comes the time for both of us to walk away. That is, unless you too are prepared to become a prisoner of this bastion. Its doors will close forever.

‘So they tell me.’

The pair walks the curled grey stone that overlooks Fallstone Sound. She speaks on as she walks; not to his ears but his mind. I trust you understand that we could afford no aid to Naemia, nor find cause for the Celestri to intercede on your behalf. They have made clear their separation.

‘A most unfortunate decision,’ the man remarks. ‘They no longer perceive their house’s future.’

Nor has my realm for the last three thousand years. In vain has Fallstone sought to preserve a bloodline too long damned. Now at last they begin to accept their place on Earth, and with it their mortality.

‘And yet surely,’ says the man, halting his step, ‘your envoy came for a reason. After all you’ve seen and heard, could not you have persuaded—?’

Persuaded? She stops and turns, a static charge in the mind-voice. When the whisper of a mortal heir had already proved insufficient?

‘Apparently so.’

Perhaps then, ‘twas your mystic, the one you call the Raven, who should better have been tasked with such persuasions.

‘Over one with the power to mediate between worlds?’

She glares rebuke, her mind to his. Have a care. The information you have supplied has been most worthy of attention, but on this plane our lightest touch still can never be too careful. We have no true power or sway here than the Celestri have will. And while indeed, your Raven’s words would present choices, those choices are neither mine nor yours to make.

The tall man bows his head with grace but then looks out across the water. ‘And if they were?’

A futile question. Let it suffice that I shall keep a ready eye upon these realms.

They walk again. ‘Nevertheless, I can but wonder what you will do on your return.’

My report in Echelon will meet with much the same doubt and censure as yours has done in Fallstone. Now is not the time to press such daring communications.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

‘Well, I’ve always been patient.’

As you must be again. Patient, and as one clearly gifted with long life, prepared to behold the crumbling of nations. Naemia could not be saved. Were you ready for that end?

The man returns a broken smile. ‘My loss in this matter could scarcely hold a candle to that of the people who called this land their home but days ago. My realm is suggestion. In the end, I’m not much good at telling people what to do.’

Nor need you be. Earthly powers are transient. The destiny of flesh is in dust, as is your own.

‘Naturally.’

Yet, I wonder . . .

‘Please go on.’

If there is truth to be gleaned from the words of this Raven you trust, could then not Naemia’s fate have been essential to that truth? As essential, even, as the so-called heir you sought to save?

‘I have played with the notion.’

You have played, I think, with notions larger than that.

‘A judgement most fair.’

Now the pair reaches the top of the harbour’s winding stair and there stand silent for a while. The only voices on the quays now are the gulls. The tide is leaving. Land and sea, it seems, are shocked to silence as if shaken. Where will you go?

‘For now, I think, a visit to the desert’s coast may hold some merit. A ferry remains.’

Make all haste, then. This gulf will not long be passable.

‘Well observed.’

Her glare is now bereft of all temporal contact; her thought is private. If I’m to trust you, what would you have me inform my superiors?

‘In a few words, O’phanim—and not, I hope, to alarm—to make ready for an era that will uproot time’s foundations.’

Is that all?

‘Most unlikely, but we shall see in due course.’

Then let me be clear. If such wheels are in motion, you are a fool if you believe that your Raven could have seen them ere the timeless eye of Echelon.

‘Supposing we’re talking about the same wheels, I rather thought you’d say that.’

You will consider it a solemn and worthy warning. Name it what you will, such a future could not be further from your grasp. Instrumental as you are—whoever you are—the events that you predict are those that will unfold after you are gone. After your children’s children are gone.

This time the mind-reproach falls off target; the man smiles. ‘Oh, but the future is always out of reach. As it remains, ever, at the same time, in our hands. Naemia falls. The Celestri seal the doors of Fallstone. My work in this place and time is now finished. Nevertheless, it cannot be changed that truths have been spoken here and now. In quite short sentences.’

Not to mention with higher expectations.

‘Expectations? Oh, you mistake me. I would avoid those where I may. Foresight is a gift, verily, but I’m quite glad I’ve never had it. Hope is far preferable.’

As you continue to hope that this child, this heir, survives.

‘Quite.’

While setting forth from Fallstone with a strange pebble in your pocket. Although concealed, she has seen it.

‘This? Ah, a token.’

Indeed. Her mind-glare is soft now, almost amused. Then I bid you a blessed journey. Doubtless you’ll continue to meddle. I only hope you know what you’re doing.

His wink is sapphire. ‘A much better way of putting it.’