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Warleaders needed such forces gathered around them, arrayed in desperate defence of self-delusion, of headlong singlemindedness. The Chosen One was more like Toblakai than she imagined, or, rather, a younger Toblakai, a Teblor commanding slayers-an army of two with which to deliver mayhem. She had lived long through her haunting, her visions of Apocalypse that had tugged and jerked her bones ever onward as if they were string-tied sticks. Did the woman want an honest answer. Could she not see that her husband was dying. Your father does not include me in his confidences. Gwladus stood up restlessly and swept across to the window with a shiver. Already it is being talked about. Nor is anything the king may choose to do.
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