Chapter 22: The Test

Two hundred wolves turned to look at me.

I had walked into that hall for ten years as its Luna, and I had never once heard it so quiet.

Corwin stood in the middle of the floor with his ribs strapped and his face wet.

He did not move toward me.

I noticed that, and I loved him for it.

"I am Tilda Stradling of the Fen," I said, and my voice rang under the rafters. "I came to see the deed delivered."

The ferryman held it up in both hands, and a murmur ran along the benches.

"I have not come to sit in a chair," I said.

A pause went through the hall.

The old elder with the heavy jaw looked at the empty Luna's seat on the dais, and then at me.

"The chair is yours, daughter," he said, and he did not say it grudgingly.

"I know it is. That's why I'm not taking it tonight."

I looked at Corwin.

"I'd like to see the study."

He walked ahead of me up the stairs without a word.

The study smelled the same.

Ink, cold ash, leather.

The desk stood where it always had, under the window, with the lamp on its left corner.

I stopped in the doorway.

Weeks ago I had walked in here with a lamp in my hand and a kind word from a friend.

I had found a paper warm from the seal.

Corwin stood by the desk, not touching it.

"I have not sat at this since," he said. "I've slept in the barn at the Fen. In the stall. I'd like that known."

"It's known."

I took a folded paper out of my sleeve and laid it on the blotter.

"Read it," I said.

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