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. What kind of ladder heads for the top of some-
thing and then just stops, just that much short? What
kind of sense does that make?"
"All things have reason, little one." The voice was the
Irda's voice, low and incredibly sweet. Chess nearly lost
his hold, turning to look. She stood just below, watching
his descent.
The kender scrambled the rest of the way down the
cone, dropped light-footed to the pavement, and turned.
"I thought I'd take a look at what's up there," he said.
"But I couldn't get to the top. What is up there, any-
way?"
"Spellbinder," she said.
"Pain and desolation," something seemed to whine.
Chess glanced around, knowing there was no one
there to see. "Hush, Zap," he snapped. Then, to the Irda,
"Is it something the gods left lying around?"
The Irda only smiled. "Spellbinder has been
forgotten." She nodded. "But what the gods discard,
eventually find purposes again."
"Woe and misery," Zap's voiceless voice mourned.
The Irda half-turned, raising her head. She seemed to
be listening to something Chess couldn't hear. And there
was something odd about the light. The fires still flick-
ered in their sconces on the ring of stones, but feebly
now, as if their fuel were giving out. The rose and silver
glow cast by the moons Solinari and Lunitari had
changed, too
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