‘When Lord Anomander calls, will we answer?’ Narad looked across at Glyph. ‘He won’t have to, Glyph. That place I described? I fear we will already be there.’ Standing fast, upon the shores of peace. In her name. ‘Glyph?’ ‘Yedan Narad?’ ‘Your old language. Have you a name for a shoreline?’ The hunter nodded. ‘Yes.’ ‘What is it, then?’ ‘Emurlahn.’ Yes. There.
