Legacy of the Darksword by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

breaking only one window and trampling the
flower beds, they eventually left us in peace. I saw several interviewing Mrs.
Mumford.
    I suppose that a birthday
celebration for one elderly cleric was not considered worth the expenditure of
time and money. Had they known the true story, they would have stormed the
house.
    Another of the General’s aides
was in the study, on the phone, confirming and updating arrangements for our
transport to Thimhallan.
    Saryon paused a moment in the
hallway. Noting the expression on his face, I touched his arm, drew his
attention.
    “You did the right thing,” I
signed, and added, a little teasingly, I’m afraid, hoping to cheer his mood. “You
must have faith.”
    He smiled, but it was a wan, pale
smile. “Yes, Reuven. So I must.”
    Sighing, his head bowed, he went
to his room to prepare for our journey.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The Watchers had guarded the
Border of Thimhallan for centuries. It was their enforced task, through
sleepless night and dreary day, to keep watch along the boundary that separated
the magical realm from whatever lay Beyond .
    What did lie Beyond ?
    TRIUMPH
OF THE DARKSWORD
    I will spare you the details of our
journey, which was, I suppose, the same as any other interplanetary flight,
with the exception that we were in a military ship with a military escort. For
me, the trip into space was awe-inspiring and exciting. This was only my second
flight and the first I remembered clearly. I had only the vaguest recollection
of leaving Thimhallan, traveling on the evacuation ships.
    Saryon kept to his quarters, on
the pretext that he had work to do. He was, as I believe I have neglected to
mention, developing a mathematical theorem having to do with light-wave
particles or something of the sort. Not being mathematically inclined, I knew
little about it. The moment he and his tutor began to discuss it, I began to
feel a throbbing in my temples and was glad to leave. He claimed to be working
on this, but every time I entered his room, to see if he needed anything, I
found him staring out the porthole at the stars gliding past us.
    He was reliving his life in
Merilon, I guessed. Maybe he was once more in the court of the faerie queen or
standing, a stone statue, on the border of Beyond. The past was for him both
painful and blessed. At the expression on his face, I silently withdrew, my
heart aching.
    We landed on the world he and I
had known as Thimhallan, the first ship from Earth in twenty years, not
counting those that arrived only to off-load supplies to the station then left
again, and not counting those that arrived secretly, carrying the Duuk-tsarith and the Technomancers.
    Saryon remained alone in his
quarters for so long after the ship settled to the ground that I began to think
he had reconsidered his decision, that he was not
going to talk to Joram after all. The General’s aide was exceedingly worried
and panicked calls were made to both General Boris and King Garald. Their
images were on-screen, prepared to badger and plead, when Saryon appeared.
    Motioning me to follow him, he
walked past the aide without a word, did not even glance at the screens. He
moved so swiftly through the ship that I barely had time to grab the knapsack
in which I had packed a few necessaries for us both and hurry after him.
    By the beatific expression on his
face, Saryon was lifted far above the remembrance of such things as clean
socks, bottled water, and shaving kits. Blessing the forethought which had
prompted me to pack for both of us, I slung the knapsack over my shoulders and
was following at his heels when he reached the hatch.
    Whatever doubts he may have
entertained were gone. The weight of his responsibility and even the weight of
the intervening years had fallen from him. This was more than a dream come
true, for my master. He had never dared dream the dream. He had never thought
this reunion would take place. He had believed that Joram—in his self-imposed
exile—was lost to