He looked down at the half Keystone Crow had thrown to him, and slid it upon the finger where he wore the half Keystone Milla had given him. As the two Sunstones met, there was an intense flash of Violet, a stinging pain in Tal's finger. The ring was whole once more, the Sunstones become one.
"You can help us all get back to the Castle from here, can't you?" asked Milla.
Tal did not hear her. He was staring down at the Violet Keystone, lost in its depths.
Milla smacked him on the back and repeated her question.
"What? No. That is, I don't know…" began Tal. Then he stopped to think about it and was surprised to find inside himself an absolute confidence that he could lead them back from anywhere in Aenir. "Yes. I suppose we can go from here. You'd better wake up Malen. I'm just going… for a walk."
Milla frowned. There was nowhere to walk to, atop the spire. But she bent down and propped Malen up against herself, wincing as her bruised ribs and back complained.
Tal walked to where Sharrakor had stood, right on the edge of the spire. The rock was worn glassy smooth there, as if by many feet. It would be treacherous if it was wet, but Tal guessed it never rained here, in the heart of the whirlwind.
"Khamsoul!" he shouted. "I have a question." The sound of the whirlwind did not change, but somehow Tal heard a quiet voice above it, a voice that was old and slow and mellow, gentle and vaguely amused at the same time.
"Of course you do, Tal Graile-Rerem, Emperor of the Chosen of the Castle. I will grant you one question, and one answer."
"Did you kill Adras and Odris?"
"I do not kill my children," breathed the Old Khamsoul. "Even my children's-children's-children, beyond the count of years. They live, and now know their ancestry. You may ask another question."
"Could… could I have done anything differently?" asked Tal. "Was there some way to do everything better? To defeat Sharrakor, without Crow… without Crow dying, or Jarek… or all the other people, all the Aenirans?"
"I cannot answer that," whispered the whirlwind. "I can only say what is, and what has been, not what might have been or what might come to pass. You may ask another question."
Tal stared out at the whirlwind.
"Who started the war between our worlds?" he asked.
"Which one?" The Old Khamsoul sighed. "Which one? There have been so many wars. And even I cannot always say how they began."
Tal was silent.
"I have not answered. Do you have another question?"
"No," said Tal slowly. "I do not know what to ask. I will come back someday, if you let me."
"You may come," said the Old Khamsoul. "I shall be here."
Tal turned and walked back to Milla and Malen. A minute later, three Sunstones flashed, and three voices spoke the Way to the Dark World. A rainbow shone, and the spire of the Old Khamsoul was empty.
EPILOGUE
The Great Gate of the Castle had been shut for more than a thousand years. Now the vast gate of golden metal stood open to the Dark World beyond. But it was not dark, for in the Hall of Welcome a thousand Sunstones shone, and out on the road beyond there were scores more Sunstones, hundreds of moth lanterns, and many oil-soaked torches burning with blue flames.
Tal stood in front of a crowd of Chosen and Freefolk. He was clad in simple white robes rather than violet, though the Violet Keystone shining on his hand splashed him with color. His natural shadow fell on the floor behind him. Only natural shadows flickered among this gathering, though there were still renegade Chosen, their Spiritshadows, and free shadows elsewhere in the Castle.
Opposite Tal, in front of a throng of Icecarls, stood Milla. The Talons of Danir glowed violet on her fingers, and the crown on her head was newly polished. Her Selski hide armor had been repaired and cleaned, and once more she wore her Merwin-horn sword at her side. She also wore a Sunstone ring, which shone indigo and was larger than the half Keystone she had given up.
"Farewell, at least for a circling," said Milla, clapping her fists together in a gesture to Tal. "Or more, perhaps. We will be busy."
Tal nodded in understanding. Though they had saved the Veil, it had been temporarily weakened, causing a shift in temperature and changing both the weather and the Ice. The pattern of Selski migration had altered, and with that alteration had come many conflicts among the Icecarl clans who had to depart from their traditional routes and hunting grounds. As always, the Crones would decide these disputes, but they had asked Milla to assist in their decisions. She would lead a special force of Shield Maidens and Crones who were to circumnavigate the world, ruling on the new boundaries and prerogatives.
"I'll be busy too," he sighed. Despite the collapse of the old regime, the vast majority of Chosen had still acclaimed him as Emperor. The Freefolk, led by Crow's brother Bennem--who had been cured by the Crones--had agreed to that acclamation, provided he was called Emperor of the Castle, not just the Chosen.
Tal, mindful of his promise to Crow, had accepted for the time being. Now he had the task of trying to make the new society work. It was a tall order when within the Castle there were rebel Chosen, recalcitrant Chosen who didn't want to do anything useful, former Underfolk who couldn't imagine change, and Freefolk who were bitter and wanted the Chosen to serve them or to be punished for their past.
"I wish Ebbitt--" Tal began to say, when he was interrupted by a scrawny, rather stooped Icecarl who seemed to be having difficulty with his facemask.
"Wish what?" said the Icecarl, lifting the mask to reveal a familiar long nose. "Wish I'd been bored to death by those Kurshkens?"
"No," Tal said, embracing his great-uncle. "You know what I wish."
"Hmmph," snorted Ebbitt. "I'll be back. Couldn't miss this opportunity, you know. There I was, on my last breath… or perhaps the second-last breath,
I can't be sure… and I thought if I die now never see the Ice. Beside, there's those Crones. I like the sound of them."
Tal let Ebbitt go, but pressed two fingers against his great-uncle's chest. Something moved under the curs, something other than skin and bone.
"Ebbitt!"
"What can I say?" exclaimed Ebbitt. "It wants to come with me. We've been playing Beastmaker and I'm winning a hundred and six games to one hundred and eight."
The Codex beat against Ebbitt's chest and the old man hastily added, "The count is a little in dispute. It could be one hundred and six even."
Tal frowned. The Codex was too valuable to lose. But there was no guarantee he'd be able to consult it even if it did stay in t
he Castle. At least if it was with Ebbitt he'd be able to find it when he had to. Besides, Malen was going to stay in the Castle and several other Crones were gong to join her, as part of a permanent embassy. Tal would be able to communicate with Ebbitt and the Codex via the Crones.
And with Milla, too. There would be much to talk about.
"Farewell, Milla," said Tal. He held out his wrist, showing the scars of the oaths they had made together. Milla bared her wrist, and they touched scars, cool skin against cool skin.
Milla smiled, a smile that Tal had not seen before. He smiled back and looked into her eyes. In their joined gaze, they both saw everything they had been through together, from their meeting on the Ice to the fall of Sharrakor.
Everyone was silent as they stood together. Time ticked over in Icecarl breaths and Chosen seconds, counted in sparks within their Sunstones. Finally, Milla raised her hand, and Tal's fell away.
Milla held her hand high above her head. A Talon flared and a violet whip spun overhead, before falling into motes of light as Milla closed her fist and lowered her arm.
Icecarls shouted, their calls reverberating through the great hall. Then they shouldered their burdens and set out on the long road down the Mountain of Light. Down toward the Ice and the Living Sea of Selski, down to their windborne homes, the clan ships of the Icecarls.
Milla did not look back.
Tal watched for a moment, then turned toward the shining Sunstones, to the thousands of halls and rooms and corridors of the Chosen and the Freefolk, the people of the Castle.
But even as friends and strangers alike came to his side to ask questions or beg favors or tell him things, his thoughts were only on one small part of the Castle. A suite of rooms with the front door marked by an Orange Sthil-beast leaping over a seven-pointed star.