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forehead and began to extend a heavier control, his own manner stilling and centering as
he breathed slowly, in and out. At one point he glanced up dreamily at Jaffray, who
nodded minutely, then returned his attention fully to Guaire.
After a moment, Guaire curled up on his side, as though asleep, and moaned, pulling the
edges of the cloak more closely around him. As Queron sat motionless, all stillness now,
Guaire opened his eyes hesitantly and appeared to look around.
Camber knew what must happen next. Shifting his gaze out to the center of the room,
toward which Queron now slightly turned his face, he watched a tendril of smoky
luminescence begin to coalesce, gradually becoming a motionless figure cloaked and
hooded in gray.
Was that what he had looked like? No wonder Guaire had been frightened at first!
Guaire rolled over and blinked, staring in amazement as the tall, light-shrouded figure
glided a little closer. Alarm animated his face for just an instant as he started to sit bolt
upright, but then he froze halfway up, leaning on one elbow, to breathe the ineffable name:
"Camber!"
The apparition moved a few steps closer still, then stopped as the hood fell back from
silver-gilt hair familiar to nearly everyone in the hall. There was a deep, scarcely breathed,
"Ah!" as the face was seen and recognized.
Camber stared at his own image, transfixed. The face seemed younger than he
remembered looking for some years, and Camber realized that this must be the way Guaire
had seen him, through idolizing eyes.
"Don't be afraid," his own voice said, spoken by Queron, but projected to sound from the
figure's lips, and almost exactly in Camber's tone. "I return but for a moment, to ease your
grief and to assure you that I am at peace where I now dwell."
Camber nodded slightly as Guaire did, caught up in the recollection of that other night,
and missed conscious registry of the next few exchanges.
". . . With you gone, the king will endure unchecked," Guaire was saying earnestly, when
Camber snapped back to full awareness. "I fear him, Lord."
"Pity him, Guaire," the apparition replied gently. "Do not fear him. And help those who
remain to carry on our work: Joram, and Rhys, my daughter Evaine my grandsons, when
they are older. And Alister Cullen, who brought you here. He, most of all, has need of your
support, if you will only give it."
"Father Alister?" Guaire shook his head in bewilderment, his voice almost plaintive. "But
he is so gruff, and sure of himself. How could I possibly help him?"
"He is not so self-sufficient as he would have men think," the response came, a familiar
smile playing about the lips. "Gruff he may be, and sometimes far too stubborn for his own
good. But he, even more than my children, will miss that companionship we used to share.
Will you help him, Guaire? Will you serve him as you served me?"
All attention focused back on Guaire and waited for his reply, living the moment with
him, wondering, awed. Camber could not help admiring the artistry of the man named
Queron, who could call so dazzling a recall from Guaire's drug-fogged memory of that
night and now held an undrugged audience equally spellbound. He hid a smile behind one
casually raised hand as Guaire looked up shyly at his visitant.
"I could truly help him?"
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"You could."
"To serve him, as I served you?"
"He is more than worthy, Guaire. And too proud to ask you for your help."
As Guaire swallowed, half the audience swallowed with him.
"Very well, Lord. I will do it. And I will keep your memory alive, I swear it!"
"My memory is not important," the figure replied, more humbly than Camber
remembered. "The work we began is. Help Alister, Guaire. Help the king. And be assured
that I shall be with you, even when you are least aware." That much was certain, Camber
thought. "I count on you to carry out my work."
"I will, Lord!" Guaire's eyes went round as he realized the vision was about to leave. "No!
Wait, Lord! Do not leave me yet!"
The apparition paused to gaze at him with compassion.
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