Memories … gone. In their wake, tens of thousands of souls. Silent. ‘To me, then, I will take your pain, now.’ ‘You are mortal.’ ‘I am mortal.’ ‘You cannot carry our pain.’ ‘I can.’ ‘You cannot deliver it—’ ‘I shall.’ ‘Itkovian—’ ‘Your pain, T’lan Imass. Now.’ It rose before him, a wave of immeasurable height, rose, towering, then plunged towards him. And they saw, one and all. They saw Itkovian’s welcoming smile.
