“Orders,” Tomas said, though even he didn’t believe that was answer enough.
The road ahead was gone. In its place stood a tower of black stone, smooth as polished glass, rising without seam or door. At its base knelt a figure in grey robes, face hidden. raymond e feist vk
Tomas felt the cold change. It was no longer winter’s cold. It was the cold of a tomb. “Orders,” Tomas said, though even he didn’t believe
Pug looked at his hands. The blue light was gone. So was most of the color in his face. At its base knelt a figure in grey robes, face hidden
Tomas glanced sideways at his friend. The boy he’d grown up with in Crydee had changed. There was a stillness now behind Pug’s eyes, like the surface of a deep well. The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested on the pommel of no sword. He carried no blade.
“I don’t need to unmake it,” he said. “I only need to move it. One step left .”