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veins that scored the surface of his skin, the long, sinewy musculature and dark eyes of the race of his
mother. He was very far away, she knew, lost in thoughts, most likely from the other side of Time, so she
waited in silence until he was ready to speak again.
When his eyes finally cleared, he fixed them on Rhapsody for a moment, then turned back to the
manuscript.
'I have seen something like this once before," he said, his voice as sandy as the Yarim wind. "It was
long ago, in another lifetime, long before we met in the streets of Easton in the old world." He fell silent
again.
Rhapsody pulled the green silken folds of her dusty skirt around her knees and waited.
'Someone I once served as guardian for a rare and magical being had an apparatus that looked
very much like this. I only saw it once, but it would be impossible to forget such a thing. Like this, it was
built into a tower in a clifftop monastery, though not in a mountain peak; Gwylliam had delusions of
grandeur that made him feel he could mold the very Earth itself. In the language of its owner, the
apparatus was called the Lightcatcher."
'What did the apparatus do?"
Achmed shook his head, his eyes heavy with memory. "I am not certain. I do remember, however,
that when the gravely injured were past the point of being healed by the monks or the priests there, they
were taken to the Light-catcher. Many of them returned, whole. When knowledge was being sought, the
priests often asked " He caught himself, his olive skin turning darker for a moment. "The one who
possessed the machine was frequently asked questions that required the ability to see into the future, or
across great distances, or into hidden places, and those questions were answered. There were other
things as well things that defy explanation that the Lightcatcher brought about. It was an instrumentality
of great power. How it worked, and what its exact capabilities were, I am not certain. I have tried to
follow Gwylliam's directions in the reconstruction of the one he built, but I cannot get the colored glass in
the ceiling to the right thickness and porosity."
'You are rebuilding this?" Rhapsody asked. "Why?"
The Bolg king studied the drawings before him. "If the scant records of the Cymrian War that were
preserved in the library of Canrif are to be believed, part of the reason that Anwyn was not able to assail
Gwylliam's stronghold for more than five hundred years was this instrumentality, and whatever powers it
had. When she finally broached the mountains, the destruction of the instrumentality was her first
objective. Such a powerful tool would aid in making the mountains secure."
Hot as the day was, a sudden chill swept over Rhapsody. "Do you not believe the mountains to be
secure, Achmed?" she asked, concern darkening her green eyes. "Is there a threat that is unknown to the
Alliance?"
The Firbolg king shrugged. "There are always threats, Rhapsody. There is no such thing as a lasting
peace, only long pauses between episodes of war."
'Are you certain you and Anborn aren't related?" Rhapsody asked jokingly.
 'If I were to be related to someone in your husband's odious family, I suppose he is the one I could
endure with the least bad taste in my mouth. I respect his ability to not give a roasted rat's damn what
anyone thinks of him. But as for your question, remember that I guard a mountain, and a Child who is the
key to the Underworld for the F'dor. Even if we are at peace, I can never be overly prepared. The risk is
far too great. And since you were named as the Earthchild'samelystik , you should be willing to do
whatever it takes to tend to her as well, to assure her safety. Helping me in this regard will do that."
Rhapsody sighed, then carefully separated the top pages of the sheaf from the older, more delicate
page at the bottom of the pile, handing them to Achmed as she studied the last one. It was thin and
cracked with age, the paper crumbling at its edges. The markings on it were in a script she recognized
immediately, being the language in which Lirin Singers trained to become Namers: Serenne, the tongue of
the Ancient Seren race, the progenitors of her homeland.
'There is a poem, or frontispiece of a sort here," she said, studying the whisper-thin strokes of ink.
"Serenne is based on musical script, and so it is somewhat hard to equate to spoken language."
'Your best effort should suffice," Achmed said impatiently.
'The poem is a sort of roundelay, a verse of a song, but the main lines read something like this:
Seven Gifts of the Creator, Seven colors of light Seven seas in the wide world, Seven days in a
sennight, Seven months of fallow Seven continents trod, weave Seven ages of history In the eye of
God.
She turned the parchment slightly toward the light. "It's graphed like a musical scale, which, by the
way, is another seven seven distinct notes in an octave, the eighth note being the same as the first. It
looks as if this is just a part of the poem; the rest is missing."
'Does it make any sense to you?" Achmed asked.
Rhapsody exhaled. "Not really, except that it is a list of significant sevens." Her brow furrowed. "One
of them seems out of place the Seven Gifts of the Creator. I had always heard the elements referred to
as the Five Gifts, fire, water, earth, air, and ether, so I am not certain what that means."
'Can you read anything else?"
'There is a list of names beside the words for the different colors in the rainbow shall I read them to
you?"
'Yes."
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bent closer to the parchment page.
'They are marked with the musical symbols for sharp and flat, almost like the signs for positive and
negative, all but the last one.
Lisele-ut, or red, Blood Saver, Blood Letterfrith-re , orange, Fire Starter, Fire QuencherMerte-mi ,
yellow, Light Bringer, Light QuellerKurh-fa , green, Grass Hider, Glade ServerErige-sol , blue, Cloud
Chaser, Cloud CallerLuasa-ela , indigo, Night Stayer, Night SummonerGrei-ti , violet, The New
Beginning.
 When she looked up again, Rhapsody's face was pale.
'What have you found, Achmed?" she said nervously. "This is old magic, sacred and secret ancient
lore; it worries me to see it out in the open like this. Only the most revered of Namers in the old world
were allowed access to this sort of lore. These words are the basis of all vibrational code, which gives
power to Singers' music, spell-weavers, healers, and others from the old land that could manipulate
power through the vibrations of the living world."
Achmed said nothing. He made use of vibrational lore himself, in his elemental tie to blood, the tie that
allowed him to track and distinguish heartbeats. It was a power that had made him an unerring assassin
on the other side of Time.
'What are you going to do with this once you have reconstructed this instrumentality, Achmed?"
Rhapsody asked, handing him back the parchment sheets with great care.
The Firbolg king smiled from behind his veils.
'The same thing you have asked me to do here in Yarim make the lives of your subjects more
secure."
'Why don't I believe that's the end of it?" Rhapsody said, rising from the ground and brushing the dry
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