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ear the voices of all the winds of the realm in this chamber。 Listen to my mind。〃
Morgon opened his mind to the High One's silence。 The vague； incoherent murmurings outside the walls were refracted through the High One's mind into all the pure； beautiful tones on the starred harp。 The harping filled Morgon's heart with soft； light summer winds； and the deep； wild winds that he loved； the slow； rich measures matched the beat of his blood。 He wanted suddenly to hold the harping and the harpist within that moment until the white winter sky broke apart once more to light。
The harping stilled。 He could not speak； he did not want the High One to move。 But the arm around his shoulders shifted； the High One gripped him gently； facing him。
〃Now；〃 he said； 〃we have a battle on our hands。 I want you to find Heureu Ymris。 This time； I'll warn you： when you touch his mind； you will spring a trap set for you。 The Earth…Masters will know where you are and that the High One is with you。 You will ignite war again on Wind Plain。 They have little mind…power of their own： I keep that bound； but they hold Ghisteslwchlohm's mind； and they may use his powers of wizardry to try to hurt you。 I'll break any bindings he forges。〃
Morgon turned his head； looked at Raederle。 Her eyes told him what he already knew： that nothing he could say or do could make her leave them。 He bent his head again； in silent acquiescence to her and to the High One。 Then he let his awareness venture beyond the silence into the damp earth around the tower。 He touched a single blade of grass； let his mind shape it from hair roots to tip。 Rooted also within the structure of land…law in Heureu's mind； it became his link with the King of Ymris。
He sensed a constant； nagging pain； a turmoil of helpless anger and despair； and heard a distant； hollow drag and ebb of the sea。 He had learned every shape of cliff and stone boring out of the shores； and he recognized the strip of Meremont coast。 He smelled wet wood and ashes； the king lay in a half…burned fisher's hut on the beach； no more than a mile or two from Wind Plain。
He started to glance up； to speak。 Then the sea flooded over him； spilled through all his thoughts。 He seemed to stare down a long； dark passageway into Ghisteslwchlohm's alien； gold…flecked eyes。
He felt the startled recognition in the bound mind。 Then a mind…hold raked at him； and the wizard's eyes burned into him； searching for him。 The mind…hold was broken； he reeled back away from it。 The High One gripped his shoulder； holding him still。 He started to speak again； but the falcon's eyes stopped him。
He waited； shaken suddenly by the pounding of his heart。 Raederle； bound to the same waiting； seemed remote again； belonging to another portion of the world。 He wanted desperately to speak； to break the silence that held them all motionless as if； they were carved of stone。 But he seemed spellbound； choiceless； an extension of the High One's will。 A movement streaked the air； and then another。 The dark； delicately beautiful Earth…Master； whom Morgon knew as Eriel； stood before them； and beside her； Ghisteslwchlohm。
For a moment； the High One checked the power gathered against him。 There was astonishment and awe in the woman's eyes as she recognized the harpist。 The wizard； face to face with the High One； whom he had been searching for so long； nearly broke the hold over his mind。 A faint smile touched the falcon's eyes； icy as the heart of the northern wastes。
〃Even death； Master Ohm；〃 he said； 〃is a riddle。〃
A rage blackened Ghisteslwchlohm's eyes。 Something spun Morgon across the chamber。 He struck the dark wall； it gave under him； and he fell into a luminous； blue…black mist of illusion。 He heard Raederle's cry； and then a crow streaked across his vision。 He caught at it； but it fluttered away between his hands。 A mind gripped his mind。 The binding was instantly broken。 A power he did not feel flashed at him and was swallowed。 He saw Ghisteslwchlohm's face again； blurred in the strange light He felt a wrench at his side； and he cried out； though he did not know what had been taken from him。 Then he turned on his back and saw the starred sword in Ghisteslwchlohm's hands； rising endlessly upward； gathering shadow and light； until the stars burst with fire and darkness above Morgon。 He could not move； the stars drew his eyes； his thoughts。 He watched them reach their apex and halt； then blur into their descent toward him。 Then he saw the harpist again； standing beneath their fall； as quietly as he had stood in the king's hall at Anuin。
A cry tore through Morgon。 The sword fell with a terrible speed； struck the High One。 It drove into his heart； then snapped in Ghisteslwchlohm's hands。 Morgon； freed to move at last； caught him as he fell。 He could not breathe； a blade of grief was thrusting into his own heart。 The High One gripped his arms； his hands were the harpist's crippled hands； the wizard's scarred hands。 He struggled to speak； his face blurred from one shape to another under Morgon's tears。 Morgon pulled him closer； feeling something build in him； like a shout of fury and agony； but the High One was already beginning to vanish。 He reached up with a hand shaped of red stone or fire； touched the stars on Morgon's face。
He whispered Morgon's name。 His hand slid down over Morgon's heart。 〃Free the winds。〃
XX
A SHOUT THAT WAS NOT A SHOUT BUT A WIND…voice came out of Morgon。 The High One turned to flame in his hands； and then into a memory。 The sound he had made reverberated through the tower： a low bass note that built and built until the stones around him began to shake。 Winds were battering at the tower； he felt struck and struck again； like a harp string； by his grief。 He did not know； out of all the wild； chaotic； beautiful voices around him； which was his own。 He groped for his harp。 The stars on it had turned night…black。 He swept his hand； or the knife…edge of a wind； across it。 The strings snapped。 As the low string wailed and broke； stone and illusion of stone shocked apart around him and began to fall。
Winds the color of the stones： of fire； of gold； of night； spiralled around him； then broke away。 The tower roared around him and collapsed into a gigantic cairn。 Morgon was flung on his hands and knees on the grass beside it。 He could sense Ghisteslwchlohm and Eriel's power nowhere； as if the High One had bound them； in that final moment； to his death。 Snow whirled around him； melting almost as soon as it touched the ground。 The sky was dead…white。
His mind was reeling with land…law。 He heard the silence of grass roots under his hands； he stared at the broken mass of Wind Tower out of the unblinking eyes of a wraith of An at the edge of the plain。 A great tree sagged in the rain on a wet hillside in the backlands； he felt its roots shift and loosen as it fell。 A trumpeter in Astrin's army was lifting his long； golden instrument to his mouth。 The thoughts of the land…rulers snarled in Morgon's mind； full of grief and fear； though they did not understand why。 The entire realm seemed to form under his hands on the grass； pulling at him； stretching him from the cold； empty wastes to the elegant court at Anuin。 He was stone； water； a dying field； a bird struggling against the wind； a king wounded and despairing on the beach below Wind Plain； vesta； wraiths； and a thousand fragile mysteries； shy witches； speaking pigs； and solitary towers that he had to find room for within his mind。 The trumpeter set his lips to the horn and blew。 At the same moment a Great Shout from the army of An blasted over the plain。 The sounds； the urgent onslaught of knowledge； the loss that was boring into Morgon's heart overwhelmed him suddenly。 He cried out again； dropping against the earth； his face buried in the wet grass。
Power ripped through his mind； blurring the bindings he had formed with the earth。 He realized that the death of the High One had unbound all the power of the Earth…Masters。 He felt their minds； ancient； wild； like fire and sea； beautiful and deadly； intent on destroying him。 He did not know how to fight them。 Wi