I do not think my son knows yet that the stories I tell him, the strange toys I bring from distant traders... they are all for him, to learn the ways of destruction so that we may bring down an enemy we do not know. I am damned, I know, to condemn my own son to such a life. But it is for our family, for our tribe, for our people.
It is for him that I am wading out into the water. I do not know at which point it drops off to become the Void. The water is so cold that I am shivering and it is so clear that I can see my feet--stark white among the coal-colored stones.
Something brushes my leg underwater and I stiffen. I look about frantically, but I see nothing, not even the faintest glittery trail of a Sillan.
At once, my courage disappears. I have gone further out into the water than I have ever gone--perhaps nearly a thousand hands.
It is not enough.
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