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Simon paused； staring at the great pile of spread rubble that had once been Green Angel Tower。 Small figures moved in the ruins； Erchester…folk scavenging for anything worth saving； either to trade for food or as a keepsake of what was already a fabled event。
It was strange； Simon reflected。 He had gone as deep into the earth as anyone could； and had climbed equally as high； but he had not changed very much。 He was a little stronger； perhaps； but he guessed that was a strength mostly caused by the inflexibility of scarred places； other than that； he was much the same。 A kitchen boy； Pryrates had called him。 The priest had been right。 Despite his knighthood； despite all else that had happened； there would always be the heart of a scullion inside him。
Something caught his eye and he bent forward。 A green hand lay at the bottom of the gulley beside his feet； fingers protruding from the mud in a frozen gesture of release。 Simon leaned forward and scraped away some of the soggy clay； exposing an arm； then finally a bronze face。
It was the angel of the towertop； fallen to the earth。 He poured a handful of puddle water over the high…boned face； clearing the eyes。 They were open； but no life was in them。 It was a tumbled statue； nothing more。
Simon stood up and wiped his hands on his breeches。 Let someone else drag it from the muck and take it home。 Let it sit in the corner of someone's cottage and whisper to them beguiling stories of the depths and heights。
But as he trudged away across the mons yard； turning his back on the wreckage of the tower； the angel's voice…Leieth's voice…came back to him。
〃These truths are too strong；〃 she had said； 〃the myths and lies around them too great。 You must see them and you must understand for yourself。 But this has been your story。〃
And she had showed him important things indeed。 The proof of that； at least in part； lay scattered over a thousand cubits of ground behind him。 But there had been more； something that had teased at the edge of his understanding； but which time and circumstance had kept him from pondering。 Now the curious thread of memory came back to him； and would not be denied。 He had e closest to seeing it in the throne room。。。。
His footsteps echoed across the tiles。 There was no other sound。 This was a place no one had yet e to scavenge…the mute specter of the Dragonbone Chair was enough to raise fearful hackles in the best of times； and these had not been the best of times。
The afternoon light； warmer than the last time he had been here； spilled down from the windows and gave a little color to the strew of fading banners； although the malachite kings were still cloaked in their own black stone shadows。 Simon remembered a void of spreading nothingness and hesitated； his heart pounding； but he swallowed his momentary fear and stepped forward。 That blackness was gone。 That king was dead。
In full daylight the great throne looked less daunting than he remembered it。 The great toothy mouth still menaced； but some vitality it had once had seemed gone。 There was nothing in the eye sockets but cobwebs。 Even the massive cage of wired bones sagged in places； and it was clear that some were missing； although none lay around the chair。 Simon had a dim recollection of seeing yellowed bones somewhere else； but pushed it away： something different had caught his attention。
Eahlstan Fiskerne。 He stood before the stone statue and examined it； trying to find the thing that would scratch the itching spot in his memory。 When he had seen the martyr…king's face in his Dream Road vision； there had been something familiar about it。 In the throne room before； on his way to the tower； he had thought the resemblance was to the statue he had looked at so often。 But now he knew there was something else familiar about the face。 It was much like another； one he had also seen many times…in Jiriki's mirror； in reflecting ponds； in the shiny surface of a shield。 Eahlstan looked much like Simon。
He lifted his hand and stared at the golden ring； remembering。 The Fisher King's people had gone into exile； and Prester John had later e to claim the killing of the dragon and with it the throne of Erkynland。 Morgenes had entrusted him with the ring that told that secret。
〃This is your story；〃 the angel had said。 Who else to entrust with the knowledge and record of Eahlstan's house than 。。 。 Eahlstan's heir？
As he stood before the statue； the sudden； certain knowledge splashed him like cold water； raising goosebumps of fear and wonder。
Much of the afternoon slid by as Simon paced back and forth across the empty throne room； lost in thought。 He was staring at Eahlstan's statue again when he heard a noise in the doorway behind him。 He turned to see Duke Isgrimnur and a few others filing into the chamber。
The duke looked him over carefully。 〃Ah。 So you know； do you？〃
The young man said nothing； but his face was full of conflicting emotions。 Isgrimnur observed Simon carefully； wondering how this could be the same person as the stripling brought to him on the plains south of Naglimund a year before； draped like a sack across the saddle of a riderless horse。
He had been tall even then； although surely not this tall； and the thick reddish beard had been only soft boy…whiskers…but there was more to the change。 Simon had developed an air of calm； a stillness that might have been either strength or unconcern。 Isgrimnur worried more than a little about what the boy might have bee： what had happened to Simon seemed to have changed that stripling of a year ago beyond reclaiming； almost beyond recognizing。 His childhood had been burned away； and now only manhood remained。
〃I think I have realized some things； yes；〃 Simon said at last。 He carefully smoothed all expression from his face。 〃But I do not think they matter very much…even to me。〃
Isgrimnur made a nonmittal sound。 〃Well。 We have been looking for you。〃
〃Here I am。〃
As the group moved forward； Simon nodded toward the duke； then greeted Tiamak； Strangyeard； Jiriki； and Aditu。 As Simon said a few quiet words to the Sithi； Isgrimnur saw for the first time how like them the young man had bee； at least at this moment…reserved； careful； stow to speak。 The duke shook his head。 Who would ever have imagined such a thing？
〃Are you well； Simon？〃 asked Strangyeard。
The youth shrugged and offered a half…smile。 〃My wounds are healing。〃 He turned to Isgrimnur。 〃Jeremias brought me your message。 I would have e to your tent； you know； but Jeremias insisted you would e to me when you were ready。〃 He looked around the small pany； his face closed and careful。 〃It looks like you're ready now； but you've e a long way up from camp to find me。 Do you have more questions to ask？〃
〃Among other things。〃 The duke watched the others seat themselves on the stone floor and made a face。 Simon smiled with good…natured mockery and motioned to the Dragonbone Chair。 Isgrimnur shook his head； shuddering。
〃Very well； then。〃 Simon collected a stack of fallen banners and put them down on the step below the throne dais。
With only one good arm； Isgrimnur took a little time to lower himself to the makeshift seat； but he was determined to do it without leaning on anyone。 〃I am glad to see you up and around； Simon；〃 he said when he could talk without breathing hard。 〃You did not look well this morning。〃
The young man nodded and eased down beside him。 He moved slowly； too； nursing many hurts； but Isgrimnur knew he would heal soon。 The duke could not help feeling a sharp twinge of envy。 〃Where are Binabik and Miriamele？〃 asked Simon。
〃Binabik will be here soon；〃 Strangyeard offered。 〃And 。。。 and Miriamele 。。。〃
The youth's calm evaporated。 〃She's still here； isn't she？ She hasn't run off； or been hurt？〃
Tiamak waved his hand。 〃No； Simon。 She is in camp and healing； just as you。 But she 。 。 。〃 He turned to Isgrimnur； seeking help。
〃But there are things to be discussed without Miriamele here；〃 the duke said bluntly。 〃That is all。〃
Simon absorbed this。 〃Very well。 I have questions。〃
Isgrimnur nodded。 〃Ask them。〃 He had been expecting