Honor Bound

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A withered figure moved through theadept's gallery, his steps sure and silent. A maze of dubioustreasure surrounded him, all of it shrouded in darkness. The onlylight came from the cloud-misted moon peeking through one of theupper windows.

The old man gave the moon anunsentimental glance and, out of long habit, looked for hisshadow.

For several moments, he searched thedark marble floor in vain. A wave of panic crept up his throat andtightened like icy fingers. Had he finally died and not quitenoticed?

No, there lay the shadow, thin andbent and so faint as to be almost imperceptible.

He blew out a sigh and collapsedonto a bench. Rhendish, the adept who owned this manor, had placedthe bench here for those who wished to contemplate a row ofportraits-famous alchemists ranging from ancient Palanir to lastcentury's giant, the lost prodigy Avidan Insa'Amid. Rhendish didnot include his own likeness in this august company, but a carefulobserver could not fail to note that a space had beenleft.

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