THE WALL SPEAKS

From Ullem Bay to the shores of dawn, we are—

Cracking.

Hear us!

Never forget his betrayal.

Help us!

Do not trust him.

Heal us!

Hate him.

Yes, hate…hate…hate…

The voices of the guardians are tinged with uncertainty and conflict with one another, and now the one on whom the Deyer depends moves through the wall as she has many times before. Can they permit this trespass to continue? If she is affiliated with the Deyer, is she not tainted by his evil? Yes, some say. No, say others. They must sing with one voice, but they have splintered, lost harmony, their rhythm gone astray.

Do not trust! Capture, crush, turn to stone. Hate!

We hear. We hate. We obey.

Merdigen seeps into the wall, filled with alarm, for Dale is caught between, and the guardians are behaving erratically, driven by the hateful commands of the Deyer’s cousin, the Pendric. Merdigen must intervene. “Release her!” he cries.

We must stand sentry, capture, crush, turn to stone.

“She has done you no harm.”

Do not listen.

A void of silence surrounds Merdigen, and this is almost more frightening than the disarray of the guardians’ voices.

“She seeks only to help heal you!”

We sacrifice as we were sacrificed. We must stand sentry.

“She cannot be one of you,” Merdigen insists. “You cannot make human flesh stone.”

Her blood holds magic.

“It is meager, not worthy, not enough to heal you. Hear me! She seeks only to help you. You must trust her—let her go!”

Do not listen.

Once again silence envelops Merdigen as the guardians consider his words. He is overcome by their fear, their confusion. He wants to help them, but he hasn’t the power. Everything they were, everything they should be, is unraveling and the Pendric has a strong voice that turns them against reason. Merdigen must find a way to convince them to release Dale or she will die.