She closed the door and took a seat in the second chair while Deacon went about pulling books
from shelves. When he had a fair amount, he pulled his chair to the desk and opened one or two of
them.
"If you like, I will teach you a bit more gray magic. You may have your choice of lessons.
Whatever interests you," he said.
Myranda scanned the books. The names were not in her tongue, but thanks to a whispered
enchantment by Deacon, the lines and letters twisted and turned themselves as her eyes swept over the
pages. In a few moments it was all quite legible to her. Eventually she found the most recently scribed
of the enchantments.
"What about this one?" she asked, placing her finger on a spell marked "Gilliam's Folly."
"Trans-substantiation. That is a rather advanced one, but nothing beyond your ability, I am sure," he
said.
She had not brought her staff, but Deacon allowed her to borrow his crystal. Gray magic tended to
be quite different from the elements. Each spell that the fire or wind Masters taught was much like the
first. Gray magic was wholly different from spell to spell. It was like learning a new discipline each
time.
The pair decided she would begin by turning a piece of clay into glass. The two substances were
fairly similar, and thus the change would be simple. Myranda worked at the spell with Deacon's
coaching, but it wasn't easy. The sight of the spell at work was quite unique. Faint waves of energy
swept through the clay, leaving thin bands of glass that faded quickly back to normal. After an hour or
so of unsuccessful attempts, they decided to rest.
"Well. The falls are quiet today. For now, at least. Calypso indicated that they would give way
sooner than expected. Perhaps by the end of the day. Nevertheless, that still leaves time for a shift or
two at the fall's edge. It is quite peaceful there and you and I might--" he began. He was interrupted by
a thunderous slam on the door.
"What was that?" she cried, startled.
"I seem to have a rather insistent visitor," he said.
A second crash nearly knocked the door from its hinges, and a third succeeded where the last had
failed. Atop the fallen door stood a dizzied Myn. She had a desperate look, catching the edge of
Myranda's tunic and pulling her forward.
"What is it? Calm down. What is it, little one?" she asked.
Myn looked desperately to the base of the temporarily quiet falls and back to Myranda.
"What about the falls? I don't . . . Lain. Lain went to the falls," she said.
She knew from the dragon's eyes that it was so. He had gone.
"Then we must follow," Myranda said, walking resolutely toward the falls.
"What!? No! You--you need to stay here! There are ceremonies, there are tests. You've so much
more you can learn! You haven't even been inducted as a Full Master yet! Your Master crystal will not
be forged for another month, at least!" Deacon said, rushing out the door behind her.
"I've learned enough. I need to see Lain," she said.
"The falls could start at any moment. You'll never make it! You don't have any supplies! You need
to stay!" he pleaded.
"No!" she said, turning to him. "Lain has left this place to go back to killing. He has turned his back
on his purpose. I will not rest until he faces it again!"
"Myranda, that is a job for fate, not for you," he reasoned desperately.
"What if fate means to do it through me? I have been thinking. That nonsense you said that Hollow
had said about me. A label of white adorns that which will see each. I have seen the Swordsman," she
began, holding up her white scar of the mark. "I have seen Lain. I have seen whatever being we
summoned in the ceremony. What if it is my purpose to seek out the Chosen? A mark both fresh and
faded belongs to the carpenter. What if carpenter is not meant to be taken literally? What if he meant
that I was to be the one to join the members of the Chosen five together as a carpenter joins wood?
Doesn't that explain why I have the mark? Doesn't that explain why magic comes so easily to me?"
"Perhaps, perhaps . . . But perhaps not! You are reaching, Myranda. You are twisting the words to
fit your purpose," he said. "The prophecy is clear about mere mortals who try to help the Chosen. The
trials that the divine ones must face would destroy anyone else. To offer aid where it is not needed is a
death sentence!"
"Then so be it. If I must die so that the world may be spared of this war, let it be done," she said.
"No, Myranda, I--I . . . Five minutes more, I beg of you!" he said.
"I must--" Myranda tried to answer. Before she did, Deacon was gone. He disappeared inside his
hut.
Myranda hurried along. She simply could not be delayed. A terrible din came from Deacon's hut.
He sprinted out after her a minute later.
"Wait please!" he said, running in front of her. He carried a bag and an armload of books. The
precious tomes spilled to the ground as he finally found the specific one he was looking for. He riffled
through the pages and tore one out.
"Here! Take it! Have you the tooth still? Good. With this spell and that tooth you can track him
wherever he goes! And the bag! Take the bag! It contains some necessities, an old staff and crystal.
Better than yours, but not nearly what you deserve. Oh, if only you would wait until the next time that
the way opens. We could give you a crystal worthy of your skill," he said.
Myranda took the bag and the page, stuffing it inside. Tears were welling in her eyes. As they
approached the base of the falls the mountain seemed to shudder. At any second, a column of water
would come crashing down.
"Myranda. Take care. Please, come back to m--us," he said.
"I swear to you. If I can, I will," she assured him.
Myranda rushed to the edge of the waterfall basin. Those keeping watch claimed that neither they
nor their predecessors had seen anyone enter the mouth of the cave, but considering the fact that Lain
had managed to sneak out of his own hut without waking Myn, that meant little. The dragon leapt down
into the basin, while Myranda lowered herself as gently as she could down inside. With much difficulty,
she managed to reach the mouth of the cave. She fought the urge to have one final look at those she
was leaving behind, for fear of changing her mind. Instead, she hurried as quickly as the slick floor of
the cave would allow.
Ahead lay darkness, danger, risk, and war. All of this Myranda knew. But somewhere there were
two creatures, two creatures she'd seen with her own eyes, which could change the world. The
mountain groaned, filling the cave with echoes. At any moment, an icy wall of water could drop down,
robbing her of the haven, the wonder, the paradise that was Entwell. Her every desire, save one, lie in
that fair village. Her greatest desire, though, lay ahead.
Lain carried with him the shining gleam of hope for peace, and she would follow that dying light in
the darkness to the ends of the world. Now she knew the truth. She would show Lain the error in his
ways. Now she understood her purpose. She would find the other Chosen. Now she had the power. She
would see the war brought to an end, or she would die trying. Around her the mountain gave a groaning
roar. Squeezing her scarred left hand tightly, she climbed on, toward her destiny.