Wearing only his sword and his soaked, muddy breeches and kirtle, Dayraven felt out of place, almost naked, amidst all the splendid finery. Far worse than that, a new presence entered his awareness. Vast power emanated from the tent and pierced his consciousness. Someone inside possessed the gift in greater measure than the High Priest Joruman or Urd. The Supreme Priest Bledla. So I’ve come to you after all. Drawn like an insect to honey. Was this what fate had in mind for me?
