Light and Shadows

The Threads of Fate

Takes place several months after "Masters of Revendreth: Things Unseen," and after the escape of Denathrius.

"Well, we have a new Arbiter," said the Maw Walker, perching on the edge of one of the tufted-velvet chairs.

Renathal, watching from the corner of his eye, knew her reluctance to make herself comfortable had nothing to do with the furniture itself. The high-backed chair and its twin beside it, as well as the one he himself occupied and the writing desk between them, were of unquestionable quality; specially commissioned, practically identical to the pieces that stood in this room for eons before Denathrius rent it asunder.

But the Maw Walker rarely relaxed in Renathal's presence anymore, and he did not have to see her to know she was waiting tensely for his answer. He hummed a vague acknowledgement, refusing to meet her gaze. Instead, he stared beyond her, inspecting his reclaimed study; every detail, from the plasterwork to the wainscotting, recreated exactly as it always had been. As though Darkwall Tower was never a ruin of splinters and stone ... as if the last year of Renathal's existence were no more than a fading dream.

The only noticeable deviance from the strictures of eternity were the high, clear panes of glass interrupting the dark paneling of one wall. Windows. An influence of the Maw Walker's Renathal included out of whimsy, and now desperately wished he had not. As lovely a view as they teased - Sinfall's spire silhouetted in indigo by the Ember Ward's creeping Light - their true purpose had proved to be an excruciating reminder of the Maw Walker's absence while stationed in Zereth Mortis. What they would do to him once she left the Shadowlands entirely...

Well, of that, Renathal tried not to think, but he made a mental note to have the windows bricked over as soon as possible.

"It's Pelagos," the Maw Walker added when it was clear Renathal would not ask. "You remember him? He's attended the Ember Court with his Soulbind, Kleia, many times. You remember, they -"

"Yes. I remember them well," Renathal interrupted; he had no patience for fond reminiscences. "You have come too late. Draven has already related the story. It is, of course, truly remarkable. The Arbiter replaced, the drought ended. A swift answer to the Shadowlands' every prayer." Bitterness twisted the words into a grotesque caricature of their sentiment. "I assume this means the majority of the mortal forces will be returning to their appropriate side of the veil posthaste."

To anyone else, it would have sounded like casual conjecture. But Renathal knew his lover - former lover, he corrected himself ruthlessly - heard his hidden question. The plush velvet crunched as the Maw Walker shifted in her seat. Had she settled into it at last, or leaned forward, towards him? Renathal would not allow himself even a cursory glance.

"Some of them certainly plan to," she said, tone wholly inscrutable. "But many will remain, myself included. There is still the Jailer to deal with, after all. And who knows how long it will take to breach the Sepulcher. Or whether we'll succeed once we do. There is plenty of opportunity for failure yet."

Renathal brushed her proviso aside with a careless flick of his fingers, as if the Jailer and his forces held no more danger than a corpsefly.

"Draven informs me the allies in Zereth Mortis plan to move on the Sepulcher in days. And, given your customary rate of success, I would wager the Jailer is defeated before the anima begins to flow in earnest. The Shadowlands put to rights before this cycle is out."

He let his hand drop to the desktop despondently.

"Well, it wouldn't do to be too excited about it," said the Maw Walker drily. "Really, Renathal, it's unbecoming."

For the first time since she entered the room, Renathal looked straight at the Maw Walker. This attempt at arch humour seemed to strain her face, which grew noticeably thinner with each of her increasingly sporadic visits to Revendreth. Was she eating enough? Sleeping properly? He highly doubted it, and worry for her well-being constricted his chest.