“But I—”

“Eldin poison is strong, Faldain. ‘Tis how your mother died. Beware your enemies, for they gather close.”

The vision of Tobeszijian was fading. Alarmed, for he had dozens of questions still to ask, Dain stepped toward it. “Father, wait! I—” “The Ring of Solder you have found. It will help you in your hour of greatest need. But beware its terrible powers. Use it only for the sake of the Chalice.” Tobeszijian drew his sword, a mighty weapon that flashed with power inside the murky cave. “On Mirengard, swear this.”

Tobeszijian extended the sword, hilt-first. Dain reached out, and to his surprise his fingers brushed the jeweled hilt and found it solid. He gripped it hard. Icy cold it was, so cold his hands seemed to freeze, and yet sparks of its power stung him with a strange sense of exhilaration. “I do swear to use the ring only for the sake of Chalice,” he said.

“Never for your personal gain,” Tobeszijian said.

“Never for my personal gain,” Dain repeated.

The sword faded from within his grip. Tobeszijian himself wavered, as though he would vanish.

“Wait!” Dain called. “How do I—”

“Beware the one who will betray you last.”

“Who—”

“Beware,” Tobeszijian whispered, and was gone.

Dain awakened with a start to find a cloth pressed across his face. Disoriented, believing himself being smothered, he struggled to fight off his attacker.  A set of strong hands gripped his wrists, bringing a sharp flare of pain to his forearm. But the cloth was taken away, leaving only the unpleasant smell of herbs on his skin. It was dark where he lay. The sole illumination came from a meager fire. Shapes and shadows moved about him, all mysterious. Afraid, Dain struggled again, but his strength evaporated like water poured onto sand, and he was pushed down.

“Hold him,” a voice spoke in irritation. “This is the third time he’s fought off the infusion. If he will not take it, I cannot be responsible.” “Poison,” Dain said fiercely, turning his face away.

“He must stay quiet. Keep him from thrashing, Sir Polquin.”

“Damne, man, I’m trying.”

Dain frowned. Was Sir Polquin here? Then he must be safe. He stopped his weak struggles, wishing the light were stronger. “Why is it so dark?” he asked. “I do not like this dark.”

Someone apart from the others groaned in despair. “Merciful Thod, do not let him die.”

Dain tried to tell them to make the fire bigger, for he was perishing of cold, but the darkness swallowed him again.

Several times thereafter he dreamed and awoke, dreamed and awoke, until present friends and those of his past blended together and he knew not where he was, or with whom. Sometimes Lord Odfrey sat beside him. Sometimes it was Thia’s voice he heard. Singing in her pure, clear voice, she smiled at him tenderly with her sister’s love and kissed his cheek. “Be brave, my little brother,” she whispered. “There is much for you to do.”

He smiled back, glad to see her again. “I’ve missed you. Where—” But then Jorb’s voice, gruff and cursing in the dwarf tongue, called him, scolding all the while about the work Dain had left undone. Angrily, Dain started to shout back.

“Be still,” a sweet and unfamiliar voice said to him.

Dain turned his head away and saw a vision floating over his bed. He shivered, thinking it was Tobeszijian returning to him, but instead there was only a golden light and a presence without form or face. He heard song more beautiful than anything Thia had ever sung to him, the notes pouring over him like healing waters.

Lying back, he felt himself relaxing and growing warm. Dim memories floated through his mind, memories of when he was small and helpless, memories of being comforted against her warmth and love, memories of the songs she used to sing to him in a voice soft and lovely. Those songs had been of life and strength and growing and love. Now, she sang to him of life and strength and healing.  Smiling, and feeling safe with her nearby, he slept.

“You’re awake!” Thum stared at Dain with his hazel-green eyes wide. The bundle he held fell to the floor. “Sulein!” he called. “Master Sulein!” “I don’t want him,” Dain said with a frown. He was lying in bed with his head and shoulders propped high on soft pillows. Sunlight streamed in through a window, and a hearty fire crackled and hissed busily on the hearth. Confused, he thought of his dream and looked beneath the covers, but the Chalice was not in bed with him. Ah, of course, he thought, it could not be that easy. Still, disappointment sharpened his voice. “Is it morning already? Have I missed breakfast?”

“Aye,” Thum said, with a catch in his voice. “You’ve missed several. Oh, Dain, it’s good to see you better. I thought you would die.”

Dain frowned in puzzlement. “Why? I took a scratch from Gavril’s dagger, nothing more.”

“Nothing more!” Thum echoed in astonishment. “Why, you—” “Here, here, what is all this noise?” Sulein said, hurrying into the room. Clad in his long brown robes and missing his hat, he shooed Thum back and smiled down at Dain. “So you are awake at last. This is good. Thum, go and tell the others, but do not let them all come crowding inside. I wish to make an examination first.”

“Yes, Master Sulein.” Sounding breathless, Thum gave Dain a grin and hurried out.

Sulein peered into Dain’s eyes, listened to his breathing, and changed the bandages of his wounds. His hands were gentle and skilled, and for once Dain felt grateful for the man’s care.