But, enough of the foreshadowing of darkness. This anniversary was especially good because Myranda was pregnant. She was as proud as she could be, for she knew the child would be a boy with his father's natural capacities for wielding the bolt and her abilities to perform the mystic arts of magic. She was looking forward to teaching him everything she knew.

Hawklok, too, was looking forward to having a son that he could teach everything to- hunting, climbing, swordsmanship, the bolt, if possible- all those skills that had kept him alive during those months he spent with Moonflame, the olive-skinned Elderonian, last of his kind, in combat with The Dark Lord. During that time, he thought he had lost both Moonflame and Myranda, as well as his soul, to the evil Lord of Anarchy. But he had won; he had beaten The Dark Lord and vanquished him forever.

"Forever is a long time," he thought.

Hawklok looked through the window of his small house to see the guests arriving for the celebration. He had made many friends during his battle against The Dark Lord, and had lost some of them in the battle, but those who were still around were there- Hiachmal Truth, General Punphar, the "twins" Ling and C'ang who lost their brother to one of The Dark Lord's demondarcs, and, best of all, Moonflame, returned from his search for a bridge to Elderon. Hawklok saw him and rushed to greet him.

Moonflame seemed very tired, but very glad to be with his young companion. He remembered how well Hawklok had used his many talents in defeating Krynchara and realized yet again how difficult it was to prove who was master and who was student in their relationship for, though he had taught Hawklok about the old ways of magic and the bolt, Hawklok had taught him about the Carousel, its new ways and customs, and mostly about its people. He embraced Hawklok roughly when he approached.

"Moonflame! I'm glad you could make it! Any news?"

"No, Hawk. I could not find any bridges or passages to my people's ancestral home. But enough of my failures- you have a son, I hear."

"Well, I almost have a son. Myranda! Come and say hello to Moonflame."

"I've been on my way for some time, Hawk. You don't have a baby fighter punching around in your body. Moonflame, thank you for coming."

"I would never have missed this."

"It's been a year since we last saw you. How has your quest gone?"

"As I told Hawklok, I've not found a bridge or passage into Elderon, but I'll keep looking. How are you?"

"All is well. This boy in here, though, is getting very impatient."

All three laughed then began to circulate among the other guests. Everyone was happy to see each other again. Many had not been seen since the last anniversary. Hiachmal Truth, the small thief from Neverwhere, held a group of children spell-bound with his acrobatics and slight-of-hand and his tales of all the glorious battles he had never fought against dragons and warlocs who had never lived and the beautiful princesses he had never rescued.

"Hard to believe," thought Hawklok, "that he is the best thief on the Carousel- and my friend."

"Truth! Stop telling these children lies. They might start telling lies to their parents and then they will come back to me."

"Hawk," replied the lithe, but agingly husky man, "all my stories are based on a little truth... no pun inteneded."

"Of course. Children, don't believe a word he says."

They laughed and urged Truth to continue.

The dinner, actually a meal spread out through the day on tables that seemed to extend across the long field, held foods from some of the most exotic places on the Carousel. All citizens had heard of Hawklok's battle with The Dark Lord, though some had been embellished by the bards singing them, and, though Hawklok was not necessarily a hero, he was greatly revered by all and that reverence was shown in the variety of the foods, all given to this day by the lords and governors of the various towns across the Rebuilt Cities.

From this vantage point, Hawklok could look across the fields that surrounded the town he lived in. Tykon had seemed a perfect choice for settling down with Myranda, though they had both hated leaving Neverwhere. In Tykon, Hawklok had opened an inn, The Hawkbreeder, and relaxed. He was not a warrior at heart. The fields now were almost ripe for harvest and spread in all directions in a sort of multi-colored chess-board pattern. As he watched, though, he and his guests were suddenly aware of something that seemed to have been placed in the center of one of those squares of grain- a large chess piece, a rook. All looked out at the castle that had simply materialized then gaped in awe as they saw the figure who emerged dressed in the bland grey of his office. Even Hawklok was surprised, but very glad. He ran through the field laughing.

"Roland! You damned Grey Lord!"

They embraced, a god and his ward.

"And how are you, Sir Knight?" Roland held out his hand and grasped Hawklok's. Hawk opened his to find a metal chess piece, a knight, in his palm. He smiled and put his arm around the Grey Lord, Keeper of the Balance and friend.

"It's been a long time, Roland. Five years. I do hope this is a social call." Hawklok fingered the chess piece. He wasn't so sure he liked the feel of it. It was a little too heavy, a little too symbolic.

"Yes, it is a social call. Your wife is pregnant. I came to say hello to the child, and the others, of course."

Though some of those present had not met Roland at the wedding, they had heard of him and were very amazed at his ease. They did not feel uncomfortable around this god, for that is what Roland was. He was the Keeper of the Balance, the immediate agent of Fate on the Carousel, but he was funny and witty in a forgetful kind of way. He brought the gods closer to the people, and the people closer to the gods. That was one of his roles as Keeper, but only he and Hawklok understood that. For all apprearances, he was simply a very amiable deity.

Moonflame seemed to be the only one uncomfortable around Roland. Moonflame was an Elderonian and worshipped and served gods other than those currently watching over the Carousel. His was an older civilization and, though he had learned to live with this new civilization, Moonflame had never learned to live in it. Roland was an immortal part of that new civilization, a civilization, Moonflame reminded himself, that had destroyed his own. For an instant he felt an almost uncontrollable desire to destroy Roland and all the other guests in an attempt to avenge his race.

Roland turned to face Moonflame at this same instant and reached for his hand in greeting. Moonflame tried to back up to attack, but was too slow. Roland grasped Moonflame's hand and said "Moonflame. I'm glad you are here. I'm sorry about your quest for Elderon. I've watched your progress on occassion from the Gameroom." As Roland spoke, Moonflame's anger faded, like the memory of a dream.

"Thank you, Roland," said Moonflame in a tone implying thanks for both the apology and the diminishing of the ancestal hatred. Moonflame wasn't certain what had come over him, but he knew it wasn't a part of him. His race had caused its own downfall with its adherence to outdated values. The Carousel had simply outgrown the Elderonians.

Roland smiled and nodded. "I must speak with you, Elderonian."

He walked off toward his castle, waving farewell and adding to the banquet table some of the foods of the gods. Moonflame followed, disturbed.

Hawklok watched the two disappear into the keep and felt an old dread come over him. He heard in his mind the words he remembered from a dream he had for a long time after he defeated Krynchara: There cannot be one without the other; that too is law. He turned to Myranda.

"I'll be back."

Hawklok strode into the fields after his two friends. He came to the keep and entered into a castle far larger inside than the walls outside allowed. Moonflame and Roland were climbing a long circular staircase up the wall, circling the room and talking in hushed voices. Hawklok began climbing the staircase as well, following his teacher and friend and one of his gods.

Hawklok climbed for a long time before catching up to his quarry. As he rounded into sight, he caught the final words of Roland's to Moonflame.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. You are right, of course, and I cannot force you. I had only hoped that you could see it our way."

Moonflame was about to respond when he saw Hawklok.

"Why did you come here, Hawk? You were not invited."

Hawklok looked at his friend hard and saw in him a little of the greatness and cruelty his race had held. He instinctively reached for his sword, but found an empty belt. He hadn't needed his sword for festivals before. He felt a fear of Moonflame well up inside him, causing him to almost shake visibly. Taking a breath a little deeper than usual, he looked directly into Moonflame's cold eyes and said, rather boldly, "I am a champion of the Balance. Anything that involves Roland on the Carousel involves me."

He looked at Roland and was a bit surprised by the pride showing on the god's face.

"You are foolish, Hawk," continued Moonflame. "You have been so closed up these past five years with your wife and tavern you don't know what the Carousel is doing. You don't even look at your dreams anymore."

"You are too harsh, Moonflame," said Roland in Hawklok's defence. "Hawklok earned his peace after defeating the Dark Lord. You, however, refused to take the peace offered to you and went relentlessly on with your search for loneliness and, unfortunately, succeeded in finding just what you desired."

"I don't have to put up with this from you, Roland. You are a child compared to the gods I worship and from whom my power flows. Here is your 'champion.' Ask him to help you."

With that, Moonflame leaped over the balustrade, his wide cloak cracking at the air. As he fell, Hawklok heard a few muttered phrases and saw Moonflame's fall slow to that of a feather. He landed on the polished floor softly and walked swiftly out of the keep.

Hawklok looked to Roland, very disturbed.

"Who was that?"

"That, Hawklok, was Moonflame, indeed, but a Moonflame trapped by the emotions of a past he cannot reconcile."

"But, why has he changed so quickly?"

"He didn't change quickly. You haven't really seen him in years. Men change. They see things they don't want to see. In Moonflame's case, he found a past he didn't like, a history he couldn't change. Now, don't talk. You proclaimed yourself one of Fate's champions, not an unforeseen reaction, but necessarily a decision left to you. Now, my question is, how much do you want to know?"

Hawklok looked inquisitively into Roland's face, wondering what he meant.

"I don't understand," he said.

"You may not want to know, Hawklok. That's why I must ask you how much you want to know, because if you do not want to know, then you cannot help, but if you do know, you must help. You have a wife and child now. You must choose between them and the Carousel. An unfair choice, certainly, but it is still left up to you. Do not be afraid to say no, but consider what that means."

Hawklok turned from Roland and leant over the railing to look down into the well of the tower. Its open space and whispering stillness settled on Hawklok like an unwelcomed storm. It seemed stuffy and roaring to him. The roaring filled his ears and he thought of another roaring, the sounds of his dreams in the Place of Dreams so many years ago. He thought of it and then thought of the blackness of The Dark Lord, Krynchara, the evil lord of chaos he and Moonflame had fought then and banished from the Carousel. He thought of rescuing Myranda from Krynchara, of their wedding and the gods who attended, of their love-making and fun, of their child.

"I cannot do it, Roland. But, please, tell me one thing: what happens to my son?"

"I cannot tell you, Hawk, as much as I would like to. You, as surely as anyone, know that the furture is always changing, always twisting into newer and more bizzare realities. If you wish to know, then you must seek elsewhere, as now I must. You must leave now. Farewell."

Roland turned and climbed the stairs up toward the parapet, leaving Hawklok with himself.

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