“Because you have never lived beyond this place. And you never will.” His face twisted, as if he had not considered that. “Neither will you.” “But I am leaving, gargoyle. We all are. Our tenure will end, and the abbess will bring new foundlings to Divine in our stead. You know that.” “I see.” Oh—he was upset. His bottom lip was trembling, and so were the tips of his wings. He balled his hands to fists and pressed them to his eyes. I wondered if he was like this every ten years when the old Diviners left and the new arrived, poor soul. A torrential fit of tears at the changing of the guard.
Do they never actually leave? Why don't we hear about the ones who came before?
