Luck in the Shadows

ever.
    "Could Thero have something to do with this?" he demanded. "That dream I had—"
    "Certainly not!" Nysander retorted, reaching to touch the tiny ridges of stiffened flesh. "He would certainly have noticed it when he bathed, and told me of it. It must have happened as I performed the restoration. I shall have to cover it again."
    Seregil caught Nysander's wrist and held it.
    "What is this mark?" he said, searching the old wizard's face. "What does it mean that you want so badly to keep it hidden?"
    Nysander made no move to free himself. "Have you recalled anything else of that nightmare? The one with the headless horse?"
    "Not really. Only being in Thero's body and seeing the eye in my chest. And flying. For the love of Illior, Nysander, are you going to tell me what this really is or not?"
    Nysander looked away, saying nothing.
    Releasing him, Seregil strode angrily toward the door. "So, I'm going to go the rest of my life with this burned into my skin and you're not going to tell me a damn thing!"
    "Dear boy, you would do better to pray that you never find out."
    "That's never been any prayer of mine and you know it!"
    Seregil spat back. For an instant anger made him reckless. "As it happens, I know more about it than you might think. I'd have told you already if it wasn't for—"
    The words died on his lips. Nysander had gone ashen, his face a mask of anger. At his swift incantation, the room went dim and Seregil knew from past experience that Nysander had sealed the room against intrusions of any kind.
    "By your honor as a Watcher, you will tell me everything," Nysander ordered and the barely suppressed fury in his voice struck like a blow.
    "It was the night Alec and I left the Orлska," Seregil told him, his mouth suddenly dry. "Later that night I went to the Temple of Illior."
    "Alone?"
    "Of course."
    "What did you do there?"
    Seregil's skin prickled coldly; he could almost see the black waves of anger radiating out from Nysander. The room went darker still, as if the lamps were dying. Steeling himself, he went on.
    "I'd made a drawing of this." Seregil pointed to the scar. "Before you obscured it that first time I used a mirror and sketched as much detail of the design as I could make out. At the temple I showed it to Orphyria. Nysander, what's wrong?"
    Nysander had gone greyer still. Staggering to a chair, he sank his head in his hands. "By the Light," he groaned, "I should have guessed. After all I said—»
    "You told me nothing!" Seregil shot back, still angry in spite of his fear. "Even after I almost died, after Micum brought word of the massacre in the Fens village, you told us nothing! What else was I to do?"
    "You headstrong fool!" Nysander glared up at him.
    "I suppose you might have heeded my order. My warning! Tell me the rest. What did Orphyria say?"
    "She couldn't make anything of it, so she sent me down to the Oracle. During the ritual, he handled the drawing I'd made. He spoke of an eater of death."
    Nysander suddenly grasped Seregil's wrist, pulling the younger man to his knees in front of him and
    staring intently into his eyes. "He said that to you? What else? Do you remember his exact words?"
    "He said "death," and repeated it. Then "Death, and life in death. The eater of death gives birth to monsters. Guard well the Guardian. Guard well the Vanguard and the Shaft."
    "Those were his exact words?" cried Nysander, squeezing Seregil's arm painfully in his excitement. The anger was gone now, replaced by something that looked very much like hope.
    "I'd stake my life on it."
    "Did he explain what he meant by these words? The Guardian? The Shaft? The Vanguard?"
    "No, but I remember thinking that he must be referring to specific people—especially the Guardian."
    Releasing Seregil, Nysander sat back with a harsh laugh. "Indeed he was. Is there anything else, anything at all? Think carefully, Seregil. Omit nothing!"
    Seregil rubbed his bruised wrist as he concentrated. "In the course of the divination he picked up a harp peg and sang a tune I'd composed as a child. He kept that. Then there was a bit of Alec's fletching—he spoke of Alec as being a child of earth and light and said that he was my child now, that I was to be father, brother, friend, and lover to him."
    He paused, but the wizard simply motioned for him to continue.
    "Then came the eater of death business, and finally he looked me right in the eye, handed me back the scroll, and said, "Obey Nysander. Burn this and make no