“Why” Annon demanded, too hotly. Then he felt ashamed of himself. He stared down at the ground, resisting the impulse to pace and rant. Control—he needed to learn to control his resentment.

“He would not say. You know him better than that. He guards his thoughts like a Preachán guards his coins. He broods and plots and asks for no one’s counsel, and he accepts none but his own.” He reached out and rested his hand on Annon’s shoulder. “I know you once wished he would send for you, but I do not think he bids you to join him and learn his ways. I cannot even guess why he asked to see you. But I knew that you would want to know he called for you, so I did not delay. It is your choice, Annon. I am bound for Silvandom. You can go with me there