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"That he imagined the whole thing?"

"Yes," she said, her hope gathering strength. "His search for his son has consumed him for so long. It's been the one thing that kept him going. Finding Jalan… I knew from the beginning, since that night by the lake when we first spoke, that Gyaidun was after Erun, not Jalan. Is it possible he wanted to find his son so much-maybe too much-that his mind saw what it wanted to see?"

The belkagen sat in silence for a long while. When he spoke, his voice was cold and hard. "You think Gyaidun wanted to see his son warped and twisted into that… thing? That horror?"

"No," said Amira. "But if the heart wants something strong enough…"

"You told me what you saw in Hro'nyewachu. The road of years you walked. You saw the fate of Khasoreth and his apprentices. Jalan's forefathers. Did your heart… imagine that?"

"No. Mystra help me, no. If anything, I would want to believe it was all some twisted dream. But I know it wasn't."

The belkagen gave a deep sigh and nodded. "I know it also. I never walked that road, but I have walked many others. Long roads through doubt, darkness, and worse. I believe what you saw in Hro'nyewachu was truth. I do not doubt it. But my question is: Why?"

Amira scowled. "Why?"

"You went seeking aid for your son, not… what you would call 'a history lesson.' "

"The staff-"

"Was given to aid your fight. But it was not the help you sought. Hro'nyewachu told me the staff would 'sharpen the bite' you gave your enemies, but that it was for another to save Jalan."

"Sharpen the bite?" Amira's mouth opened and closed twice before more words would come to her. "Hro'nyewachu… told you? She told you? What else did she tell you?"

The belkagen looked up, and again Amira felt herself caught in a hunter's gaze. "Many things, sacred things for her and me alone. But she told me that for you. The staff is meant to aid your fight, not win it. That task is for another."

"Another?" she said. "Gyaidun? You mean Gyaidun?"

"I mean no one," he said. "They are the words of Hro'nyewachu, not the words of the belkagen. Is the other Gyaidun?" The belkagen shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who can tell?"

"Then what damned good is it?" Amira said. "If we can't understand any of it, what does it mean?"

"It means this fight is not over."

"What?"

Amira could not look away from the belkagen's wolf stare. He'd run last night while she stood and fought, yet here she sat feeling like a snowblind hare caught in the open.

"You are thinking about taking Jalan back to Cormyr," he said. "Back to the safety of your knights, wizards, and castles."

"And if I am?"

"Your knights, wizards, and castles could not protect him before."

"They cau-!"

"And they will not protect him now!" said the belkagen. "Nor you. You did an amazing thing last night, Amira Hiloar. You hurt… the sorcerer. You did something that no one has done in many ages, I think-not even your own precious knights and wizards. But now he knows it. And he knows you. He will come upon you when you least suspect it, when you are tired or alone. Whatever Erun has become, it is a thing of cold and darkness. He does not care for honor or fairness. He will come upon you when you are at your weakest. You will not survive that, I think. You will die, and he will have Jalan again."

Amira said nothing, but she did not look away. Wolf's gaze or no, her Hiloar pride would not permit it.

"You saw the sorcerer," said the belkagen. "If that's what he is. It was Erun, twisted into something… vile. Unholy. Think, Amira! It was Erun."

"We've established that."

"Erun. Gyaidun's son. Erun, who was taken just like Jalan."

The reality of it hit her. How could she have been so foolish? All she'd seen! All the oracle had shown her. How could she not have seen this herself?

"What happened to Gyaidun's son," she said. "They mean the same thing for Jalan."

"You saw Khasoreth's fate. You saw him and his pack of devilspawn walking through the years, not living but never dying, taking new vessels to contain the