they hold no power at all, until, that is, they manifest their doom.”
Alos took a deep breath and blew it out and shook his head in puzzlement. But Egil said, “What if I bore one of these tokens of power—say, a ring or some such—but when the time came I did not know how to use it, or tried to use it but failed? What then of the destiny?”
“Aye,” blurted Alos, “what if Egil failed?” Alos held out an apologetic hand of denial toward the younger man abed. “Not that you are likely to fail, Egil. No offense. No offense.”
They both looked at Arin.
The Dylvana returned their gazes. “What then of the destiny if thou didst fail to use a token as it was meant to be?”
They both nodded.
“A token of power seems to have ways of fulfilling itsown destiny,” answered Arin. “If thou didst fail, still would the token strive to achieve its doom. By another’s hand, if not by thine.
“Aye, I’ll grant thee, tokens of power are mysterious things, perhaps guided by Adon from afar, or by Gyphon…or Elwydd or Garlon or any of the others—who can say? Yet none but perhaps the gods know for certain which things are tokens…until their ordained work comes to pass.
“Hear me, though, for this I do believe: the green stone is a token of power, yet one which I pray never fulfills its destiny.”
Silence fell over them all, the stillness broken only by the scrape of Alos turning his empty mug around and around on the tabletop. At last Egil said, “If you are right, then it would seem that we all are driven to fulfill the destinies of these tokens of power. What then does it matter that we strive to reach our own ends? For whether or no we wish it, we are compelled by these things. —I hope I never come upon one of them.”
Aiko looked at Egil. “Think on this: perhaps it is your wyrd to, as you say, come upon one of them. Perhaps you have no choice.”
Egil gazed back at her. “What do you believe, Aiko? About tokens of power, that is, and whether or no they compel us to pursue their destinies?”
Aiko took a breath and said, “If I were to come upon one, then perhaps I would choose the token for it would suit my aims, and perhaps the token would choose me for the selfsame reason.”
“Then you believe that you could also reject the token if it did not suit your aims?”
Aiko nodded.
“Then, Lady Warrior, you believe that the paths of the tokens and their bearers happen to be going in the same direction, aye?”
“Yes, Egil One-Eye, I do. I have free choice, all things being equal.”
“All things being equal? What do you mean by that?”
“Just this: the gods may will it otherwise that I do athing I would rather not. Then I would have no choice at all in the matter.”
Egil nodded. “Except for my wyrd, I, too, believe I have unfettered choice in all things. But as to my wryd, I have no choice whatsoever. No matter the path I freely take, in the end I will meet the blade with my name on it, or the ship or spear or come what may; as it is with all men, I cannot escape my wyrd. The power that rules even the gods makes it so, though the gods themselves may have a hand in it.”
“Pfaugh!” snorted Alos. “The gods are capricious and visit nought but afflictions down on mankind.” He lowered his head and put a hand over his scarred, blind white eye…and of a sudden began weeping. Concerned, Arin stepped to the oldster and laid a hand on his shoulder. Sobbing uncontrollably, Alos looked up at her, his face twisted in anguish. Long strings of tear-driven clear mucus dangled down from his nose. Feebly he groped for his kerchief, blubbering all the while.
Aiko glanced at the old man in disgust. Then she turned back to Egil and asked, “Only men have wyrds? What of women…and what of the Dylvana and Lian and Dwarves and all other of Elwydd’s creations? And what of the Foul Folk made by Gyphon? Am I and all of these others completely bereft of wyrds?”
As Alos blew his nose, Egil looked
Alos took a deep breath and blew it out and shook his head in puzzlement. But Egil said, “What if I bore one of these tokens of power—say, a ring or some such—but when the time came I did not know how to use it, or tried to use it but failed? What then of the destiny?”
“Aye,” blurted Alos, “what if Egil failed?” Alos held out an apologetic hand of denial toward the younger man abed. “Not that you are likely to fail, Egil. No offense. No offense.”
They both looked at Arin.
The Dylvana returned their gazes. “What then of the destiny if thou didst fail to use a token as it was meant to be?”
They both nodded.
“A token of power seems to have ways of fulfilling itsown destiny,” answered Arin. “If thou didst fail, still would the token strive to achieve its doom. By another’s hand, if not by thine.
“Aye, I’ll grant thee, tokens of power are mysterious things, perhaps guided by Adon from afar, or by Gyphon…or Elwydd or Garlon or any of the others—who can say? Yet none but perhaps the gods know for certain which things are tokens…until their ordained work comes to pass.
“Hear me, though, for this I do believe: the green stone is a token of power, yet one which I pray never fulfills its destiny.”
Silence fell over them all, the stillness broken only by the scrape of Alos turning his empty mug around and around on the tabletop. At last Egil said, “If you are right, then it would seem that we all are driven to fulfill the destinies of these tokens of power. What then does it matter that we strive to reach our own ends? For whether or no we wish it, we are compelled by these things. —I hope I never come upon one of them.”
Aiko looked at Egil. “Think on this: perhaps it is your wyrd to, as you say, come upon one of them. Perhaps you have no choice.”
Egil gazed back at her. “What do you believe, Aiko? About tokens of power, that is, and whether or no they compel us to pursue their destinies?”
Aiko took a breath and said, “If I were to come upon one, then perhaps I would choose the token for it would suit my aims, and perhaps the token would choose me for the selfsame reason.”
“Then you believe that you could also reject the token if it did not suit your aims?”
Aiko nodded.
“Then, Lady Warrior, you believe that the paths of the tokens and their bearers happen to be going in the same direction, aye?”
“Yes, Egil One-Eye, I do. I have free choice, all things being equal.”
“All things being equal? What do you mean by that?”
“Just this: the gods may will it otherwise that I do athing I would rather not. Then I would have no choice at all in the matter.”
Egil nodded. “Except for my wyrd, I, too, believe I have unfettered choice in all things. But as to my wryd, I have no choice whatsoever. No matter the path I freely take, in the end I will meet the blade with my name on it, or the ship or spear or come what may; as it is with all men, I cannot escape my wyrd. The power that rules even the gods makes it so, though the gods themselves may have a hand in it.”
“Pfaugh!” snorted Alos. “The gods are capricious and visit nought but afflictions down on mankind.” He lowered his head and put a hand over his scarred, blind white eye…and of a sudden began weeping. Concerned, Arin stepped to the oldster and laid a hand on his shoulder. Sobbing uncontrollably, Alos looked up at her, his face twisted in anguish. Long strings of tear-driven clear mucus dangled down from his nose. Feebly he groped for his kerchief, blubbering all the while.
Aiko glanced at the old man in disgust. Then she turned back to Egil and asked, “Only men have wyrds? What of women…and what of the Dylvana and Lian and Dwarves and all other of Elwydd’s creations? And what of the Foul Folk made by Gyphon? Am I and all of these others completely bereft of wyrds?”
As Alos blew his nose, Egil looked
Similar Books
