The Heart of What Was Lost (Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, #3.5)

by Tad Williams

if there were no flaws in order, life would be immeasurably poorer.”

It was surprisingly heavy, but it was typical of the high magister that he should have worn it so long without a word of complaint. The chain was thick and plain, and even in the poor light of the hall Viyeki could see it was made of some strange metal too pale to be copper but too pink to be gold or anything more ordinary. The pendant was the size of his palm, shaped like a rounded triangle hanging point-down. At its otherwise featureless center glimmered a large oval stone of a sublime red-orange color.

“It is called The Heart of What Was Lost,” the magister said. “My forefather Yaaro-Mon brought it from our people’s ancient home in Venga Do’tzae when we left that place.”