Tarod had won his freedom; but the cold white jewel that contained the key to his sorcerous power had been lost, together with the girl he loved, in a supernatural storm. With a price on both their heads, he had to find her before the Circle did. Only then could he hope to fulfil his self-imposed pledge to confront the gods themselves—for they alone could destroy the stone and the evil within it.

But if that evil once touched him, Tarod would be forced to face the truth of his own heritage. A heritage that could trigger a titanic conflict of occult forces, and set him on the ultimate quest for vengeance...

Keridil let the hand holding the parchment fall to his side. He wished to all the gods that his father, Jehrek, were still alive. Jehrek had had the wisdom and judgment that sprang from years of experience, and his son desperately needed that wisdom now, to help him... And something in Keridil's soul turned black as he remembered that it was Yandros, Lord of Chaos, who had taken the old man's life...

"Keridil?" He had all but forgotten Sashka's presence in the room, and looked up with a start, as though a ghost had spoken.

"Keridil, what is it? What does she say?"

Jehrek was no longer there to help him ... but Sashka would. And however wrong it might be to confide in anyone outside the Circle, however strongly the Council of Adepts might disapprove, Keridil needed to share this burden with her.

He took hold of her hand and said, quietly, "Sister Ilyaya Kimi has formally asked me to call the Conclave of Three."

Sashka stared at him, stunned. She understood, he knew; but now that the first words were out he had to speak the rest. "She asks me to inform the High Margrave, and to begin the preparations." He paused, then: "Our only hope of defeating Chaos is to sail to the shrine on the White Isle, and open the casket of Aeoris."