of that. The ancient patterns called for six Lines, evenly balanced in power, as in the Beginning.
“Khea and I leave for the Meeting Ground soon.” She broke a loaf of moist yellow-cake into smaller pieces.
Nisk’s battle-notched ears raised as he squatted beside the jug of dark-gold taif and poured out a portion for himself. “The Black/on/black needs to speak to as many hrinn as possible about the creatures beyond the mountains. The Council of Lines would be the perfect time and place.”
“But will they believe him?” Kei’s massive e