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."
Chane's voice had gone soft as he spoke, and was
barely audible in the final words. As he opened his eyes a
tear welled in one of them and started to trickle down his
cheek. He snorted, shook his head, and brushed it away.
"Everything ended there, you know. They all died."
The dwarf sighed heavily, glancing around as though
he were just awakening. The kender had come to listen
and was holding one end of a long pole with leather
loops on it. Chane realized this was probably the first
time he had ever seen the kender speechless.
"But you said you saw Skullcap," Wingover persisted.
"Grallen couldn't have seen that."
"No. It was as well that he never saw it. It was like the
mountain... melted, changed into something hideous.
Grallen didn't see it, Wingover, but I did. In the dream."
He tapped his forehead. "The stone in Grallen's helm --
Pathfinder -- saw it, and I've seen what Pathfinder saw.
"Grallen must have put his helm aside... or lost it in
the tower or something. But I know where it is now, and
why the green trace out there looks so odd, as though it
doubles back on itself." He walked to the ledge and
pointed, not toward distant Skullcap, but south of there.
"Zhaman's spire," he said. "It was blown entirely away
from the tower, and bits of the upper portions with it.
Grallen's helm -- and Pathfinder -- are there, where the
wreckage fell."
* * * * *
Morning sun was on the peaks of Sky's End when the
soarwagon appeared again, spiraling down from high
above in a series of precipitous loops and tumbles -- for
all the world like a stricken bird falling away from a rap-
tor
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