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Ian raised an eyebrow. "Considering what the rest of our Family is like, you
must have seemed a veritable saint to him."
"The Sabirs earned their bad reputation for their dealings with other
Families," Ry said stiffly "They weren't cruel to those who served them."
Ian said, "It was my Family, too, brother. Remember? I spent my first years in
that House, and saw plenty of cruelty aimed at those who served. My mother was
one of those who served."
Ry shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. In any case, he didn't turn us in, and if
Kait's right and he did recognize me, I don't think he will turn us in."
"I hope she's right. He knows the names we're traveling under, our faces, our
cover story, and our general destination. If he sends the Sabir guards after
us in the next few days, they won't have any trouble tracking us down."
Chapter 4
Hasmal's last words still rang in his own mind like the pure tones of a
meditation bell. Diighall, hear me. 1 want more time. I am not done here.
He was dead, he knew - and he could feel the pull of the Veil still tugging at
him like the waves of an outgoing tide pulling at a piece of driftwood. But
the light that infused his soul gave him strength to resist the pull, and his
mind remained his own - not confused, not lost and uncomprehending as he had
heard minds became when people suddenly by violence. He knew exactly what had
happened to Crispin Sabir had finished killing him. And Vodor Imrish had heard
his summons and answered his prayer. Even dead, Hasmal now had at least a
little time to finish the things he had left undone, and though he was not
sure of how everything worked in this new state of being, he knew that he had
within his grasp the means to effect change.
He rose slowly, feeling an unnerving pull as his spirit separated from his
body. As his flesh fell away, he felt both lighter and cleaner. But he also
felt the first wave of terrible loss. His heart cried out for Alarista; he
knew he would never hold her again; never touch her; never kiss her; never
make love to her. The last words they had spoken were the last words they
would ever speak; the last kiss they had shared would be the final one. His
dreams of having children with her, of growing old together - those were gone.
He hoped their souls would reunite beyond the Veil - that they would share
their afterlife, or that they would be reborn into other bodies where they
could share other lives. It was something to hope for. But the happiness of
this moment, this love, this life, was now behind him.
He hung in the air for a moment, staring down at his dead self lying on the
table, and he grieved.
He had wanted so much more.
Then he drew himself together. Vodor Imrish had not given him this second
chance so that he could mourn his own death. He was a Falcon - he had sworn
himself to the service of good, and while he existed in any form as Hasmal
rann Dorchan, son of Hasmal rann Halles, he had work to do.
He felt certain that Dughall had heard his last words. He'd felt the old
master's presence just before the Dragon soul of Dafril was ripped from
Crispin's body. He felt equally certain that Dughall would realize that he
intended to bind his soul to the plane of the living as Solan-der the Reborn
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was rumored to have done, so that he could carry out the destiny that had been
stolen from him by the
Dragons. Now he had to hope that Dughall would find a way to provide an open
channel for him, as the Secret Texts said Vincalis had provided an open
channel for Solander after his death.
Hasmal would not try to become another Reborn. Not for an instant did he
believe Vodor Imrish had intended any such destiny for him. But his god had
put him in the hands of Dafril, a powerful Dragon who had bragged to him that
he and he alone had been the creator of the original Mirror of Souls.
And his god had allowed him to see Dafril captured and rendered helpless,
while the body Dafril had inhabited had remained close at hand. If the
rightful occupant of that body, Crispin Sabir, had killed him, Hasmal believed
Vodor Imrish had allowed it for a reason. He believed he had died so that he
could achieve the one form which would allow him to obtain the information the
Falcons needed to conquer the Dragons once and for all.
Vodor Imrish was not a god of war; he didn't destroy perfectly good worshipers
to take pleasure in the spectacle of their deaths as did the gods of war. He
had no love of blood for the sake of blood, nor of pain for the pleasure of
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