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smiled； touching his heart。 〃Morgon； he is dead。 But for a little while； you gave him something to love。〃
〃So did you；〃 he whispered。 He turned away then； to find his own fort somewhere within his realm。 He became snow or air or perhaps he stayed himself； he was not certain； he only knew he left no footprints in the snow for anyone to follow。
He wandered through the land； taking many shapes； reworking broken bindings； until there was not a tree or an insect or a man in the realm he was not aware of； except for one woman。 The winds that touched everything in their boundless curiosity told him of lords and warriors without homes in Ymris taking refuge in Astrin's court； of traders battling the seas to carry grain from An and Herun and beer from Hed to the war…torn land。 They told him when the vesta returned to Osterland； and how the King of An bound his dead once more into the earth of the Three Portions。 They listened to the wizards at Caithnard discussing the restoration of the great school at Lungold； while the Masters quietly answered the last of the unanswered riddles on their lists。 He felt Har's waiting for him； beside his whiter fire； with the wolves watching at his knees。 He felt the Morgol's eyes looking beyond her walls； beyond her hills； every now and then； watching for him； watching for Raederle； wondering。
He tried to put an end to his grieving； sitting for days in the wastes； like a tangle of old roots； piecing together the games the harpist had played； action by action； and understanding it。 But understanding gave him no fort。 He tried harping； with a harp as vast as the night sky； its face full of stars； but even that brought him no peace。 He moved restlessly from cold； barren peaks to quiet forests； and even the hearths of taverns and farmhouses； where he was greeted kindly as a stranger wandering in from the cold。 He did not know what his heart wanted； why the wraith of the harpist roamed ceaselessly through his heart and would not rest。
He drew himself out from under a snowdrift in the northern wastes one day； impelled south without quite knowing why。 He shifted shapes all across the realm； no shape gave him peace。 He passed spring as it came northward； the restlessness in him sharpened。 The winds ing out of the west and south smelled of plowed earth and sunlight。 They strung his wind…harp with gentler voices。 He did not feel gentle。 He skambled in bear…shape through forests； flung himself in falcon…shape across the noon sun as it crossed his path。 He rode the bow of a trade…ship three days as it scudded and boomed across the sea； until the sailors； wary of his sea bird's strange； still eyes； chased him away。 He followed the Ymris coast； flying； crawling； galloping with wild horses until he reached the coast of Meremont。 There he followed the scent of his memories to Wind Plain。
He found on the plain the shape of a prince of Hed； with scarred hands and three stars on his face。 A battle echoed around him； stones fell soundlessly； vanished。 The grass quivered like the broken strings of a harp。 A blade of light from the setting sun burned in his eyes。 He turned away from it and saw Raederle。
She was in Hed； on the beach above Tol。 She was sitting on a rock； tossing bits of shell into the sea as the waves splashed around her。 Something in her face； an odd mixture of restlessness and sadness； seemed to mirror what was in his heart。 It drew him like a hand。 He flew across the water； nickering in and out of the sunlight； and took his own shape on the rock in front of her。
She gazed up at him speechlessly； a shell poised in her hand。 He found no words either； he wondered if he had forgotten all language in the northern wastes。 He sat down beside her after a moment； wanting to be near her。 He took the shell from her hand and tossed it into the waves。
〃You drew me all the way down from the northern wastes；〃 he said。 〃I was。。。 I don't know what I was。 Something cold。〃
She moved after a moment； drew a strand of his shaggy hair out of his eyes。 〃I wondered if you might e here。 I thought you would e to me when you were ready。〃 She sounded resigned to something beyond his prehension。
〃How could I have e？ I didn't know where you were。 You left Wind Plain。〃
She stared at him a moment 〃I thought you knew everything。 You are the High One。 You even know what I am going to say next。〃
〃I don't；〃 he said。 He picked a shell bit from a crevice； fed it to the waves。 〃You aren't bound to my mind。 I would have been with you long ago； except I didn't know where in Hel's name to begin to look。〃
She was silent； watching him。 He met her eyes finally； then sighed and put his arm around her shoulders。 Her hair smelled of salt； her face was getting brown under the sun。 〃I'm wraith…driven；〃 he said。 〃I think my heart was buried under that cairn。〃
〃I know。〃 She kissed him； then slid down until her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder。 A wave rolled to their feet； withdrew。 The dock at Tol was being rebuilt； pine logs brought down from the north…lands lay on the beach。 She gazed across the sea to Caithnard； half in shadow； half in fading light。 〃The College of Riddle…Masters has been reopened。〃
〃I know。〃
〃If you know everything； what will we have to talk about？〃
〃I don't know。 I suppose nothing。〃 He saw a ship cross the sea from Tol； carrying a Prince of Hed and a harpist The ship docked at Caithnard； they both disembarked to begin their journey。。。 He stirred a little； wondering when it would end。 He held Raederle more closely； his cheek against her hair。 In that late light； he loved to harp； but the starred harp was broken； its strings snapped by grief。 He touched a mussel clinging to the rock and realized he had never shaped one。 The sea was still a moment； idling around the rock。 And in that moment he almost heard something like a fragment of a song he had once loved。
〃What did you do with the Earth…Masters？〃
〃I didn't kill them；〃 he said softly。 〃I didn't even touch their power。 I bound them in Erlenstar Mountain。〃
He felt the breath go out of her noiselessly。 〃I was afraid to ask；〃 she whispered。
〃I couldn't destroy them。 How could I？ They were a part of you； and of Deth。。。 They're bound until they die； or I die； whichever es first。。。〃 He considered the next few millenniums with a weary eye。 〃Riddlery。 Is that the end of it？ Do all riddles end in a tower with no door？ I feel as if I built that tower stone by stone； riddle by riddle； and the last stone fitting into place destroyed it。〃
〃I don't know。 When Duac died； I was so hurt； I felt a place torn out of my heart。 It seemed so unjust that he should die in that war； since he was the most clear…headed and patient of us。 That healed。 But the harpist。。。 I keep listening for his harping beneath the flash of water； beneath the light。。。 I don't know why we cannot let him rest。〃
Morgon drew her hair out of the wind's grasp and smoothed it。 He tapped randomly into the continual stream of thoughts just beneath the surface of his awareness。 He heard Tristan arguing placidly with Eliard as she set plates on the table at Akren。 In Hel； Nun and Raith of Hel were watching a pig being born。 In Lungold； Iff was salvaging books out of the burned wizards' library。 In the City of Circles； Lyra was talking to a young Herun lord； telling him things she had not told anyone else about the battle in Lungold。 On Wind Plain； the broken pieces of a sword were being slowly buried under grass roots。
He smelled twilight shadowing Hed； full of new grass； broken earth； sun…wanned leaves。 The odd memory of a song that was no song caught at him again； straining； he almost heard it。 Raederle seemed to hear it； she stirred against him； her face growing peaceful in the last warm light。
He said； 〃There's a speaking pig being born in Hel。 Nun is there with the Lord of Hel。〃
She smiled suddenly。 〃That's the first in three centuries。 I wonder what it was born to say？ Morgon； while I was waiting for you； I had to do something； so I explored the sea。 I found something that belongs to you。 It's at Akren。〃
〃What？〃
〃Don't you know？〃
〃No。 Do you want me to read your mind？〃
〃No。 Never。 How could I argue with you； then？〃 His expression changed suddenly； and her smile deepened。
〃Peven's crown？〃
〃Eliard said it was。 I had never seen it。 It was full of seaweed and barnacles； except for one great stone like a clear eye。。。 I loved the sea。 Maybe I'll live in it。〃
〃I'll live in the wastes；〃 he said。 〃Once every hundred years； you will shine out of the sea and I'll e to you； or I will draw you into the winds with my harping。。。〃 He heard it then； finally； between the drift of the waves； in the rock they sat on； old； warm； settled deep in the earth； deep in the sea。 His heart began to open tentatively to something he had not felt for years。
〃What is it？〃 She was still smiling； watching him； her eyes full of the last light。 He was silent for a long tune； listening。 He took her hand and stood up。 She walked with him to the shore road； up the cliff。 The final rays of the sun poured down ac