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By Carol Berg

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Karon had given Gerick back his human eyes and restored to our son his mortal life, doing his best to heal the wounds of a childhood lived in fear, loneliness, cruelty, and murder. But even Karon's blessed magic could not undo Gerick's greatest injury. " And when the Lords had stolen him away to Zhev'Na, they had fostered and nurtured his belief in his own evil, linking it with destiny and power and inevitability. By the time Gerick understood how they had deceived him, he had become so steeped in their hatred and suspicion he scarcely knew how to live in any other way.

She understood me, I think, for there came the briefest ebb in the death tide, an instant's clearing in the red mist of her pain and madness that let me perceive a host of things too terrible to know: ribs smashed, lungs torn, blood... everywhere hot, pooling blood and fragments of bone, her belly in shreds... Earth and sky, how had they done this? It was as if they knew every possible remedy a Healer could provide and had arranged it so I could do nothing but make things worse. Another instant and I was awash once more in Jayereth's torment, feeling her struggle to breathe with a chest on fire and a mind blasted with fear.

He smiled ruefully. " "You won't believe how he's grown. He's almost as tall as Ka - you... were. " I almost bit my tongue. Everlasting curses, you stupid woman... " There it was... the false note that would sneak its way into the harmonies of our time together. Why could I not reconcile myself to his change? In everything of importance, this was the man I had married. I couldn't blame him for the traces of sadness and bitterness that lingered long after his words had been spoken. Yet this very response embodied the subtle differences that still bothered me.

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