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shadow of his hand leaped across the wall。 He leaned close； still moving slowly and stealthily； as though any moment the dragon might suddenly roar back to life…but the man； like Simon； could see the ragged holes where the dragon's eyes had been； the withered； blackened tongue that lolled from the gaping mouth。
The man reached down and reverently touched the human skull that lay beside the dragon's breastbone like a pearl from a broken necklace。 The rest of the bones were scattered close by。 They were blackened and warped。
Looking at them； Simon suddenly remembered Igjarjuk's scalding blood； and felt a pang of sadness for the poor wretch who had slain this creature and received his own death。 For slain it he had； it seemed； the only bones which still hung together were a forearm and hand； and they were wrapped around the hilt of a sword driven nearly to the hilt in the dragon's belly。
The spearman stared at this odd sight for a long time； then at last lifted his head； looking wildly around the cavern as though in fear someone might be watching。 His face was somber； but his eyes gleamed feverishly。 In that instant Simon almost recognized him； but the grayness of his thoughts was not entirely dispersed； when the fair…haired man turned back to the skeleton； the recognition faded。
The man dropped his spear and detached the skeletal hand from the sword's hilt with trembling care。 One of the fingers broke loose。 The man held it for a moment； his expression unreadable； then kissed the bone and tucked it into his shirt。 When the hilt was freed； the man put his torch down on the stone； then took the sword in a firm grip。 He placed his boot against the dragon's arching breastbone and pulled。 Muscles； rippled on his arms and cords stood out in his neck； but the sword did not e free。 He rested for a moment； then spat on his palms and gripped the sword again。 At last it slid out； leaving a puckered hole between the gleaming red scales。
The man lifted the sword before him； his eyes wide。 At first Simon thought the blade a simple； almost crude piece of work； but its lines were clean and graceful beneath the char of dragon's blood。 The man regarded it with an admiration so frank that it was almost greedy； then lowered it abruptly and looked around again； as though still afraid someone might be watching。 He picked up the torch and began to move back toward the chamber's arched doorway； but stopped to stare at the dragon's leg and clawed front foot。 After a long moment's consideration； he kneeled and began sawing away with the blackened sword at the leg's narrowest point； just in front of the wing…spur。
It was hard labor； but the man was young and powerfully built。 As he worked； he looked up anxiously； staring into the shadows of the vast room as though a thousand scornful eyes were watching him。 Sweat was trickling down his face and limbs。 He seemed possessed； as though some wild spirit had taken hold of him； when he had sawed almost halfway through the thing he suddenly stood and began hacking with the sword； smashing at the arm with blow after blow until bits of tissue spun away on all sides。 Simon； still a helpless but fascinated observer； saw that the man's eyes were full of tears； that his youthful face was contorted in a grimace of pain and horror。
Finally the last of the flesh parted and the claw rolled free。 Shivering like a terrified child； the man shoved the sword through his belt； then hefted the huge claw up onto his shoulder as though it were a side of beef。 His face still full of misery； he staggered out of the chamber and disappeared up the tunnel。
〃He felt the Sithi ghosts；〃 the angel whispered to him。 Simon had been so caught up in the man's private torment that he was startled by her voice。 〃He felt them shame him for his lie。〃
〃I don't understand。〃 Something was tickling his memory； but he had been in the gray for so long。。。。 〃What was that？ And who was the other one…the skeleton； the one who killed the dragon？〃
〃That is part of your story； Simon。〃 And suddenly the cavern was gone and they were in nothingness once more。 〃There is much still to show you 。。。 and there is very little time。〃
〃But I don't understand！〃
〃Then we must go deeper still。〃
The gray wavered； then dissolved into another of the visions that had e to him in sleep upon the Tan'ja Stairs。
A large room opened before him； A few candles made all the light； and shadows hung in the corners。 The room's sole occupant sat in a high…backed chair at the room's center； surrounded by a scatter of books and scrolls。
Simon had glimpsed this person during his stairwell dream。 As in that earlier vision； the man sat in the chair with a book spread open in his lap。 He was past middle age； but in his calm； thoughtful features there still remained a trace of the child he had once been； an innocent sweetness only slightly diminished by a long hard life。 His hair had mostly gone to gray； although it still held darker streaks and much of his short beard remained light brown。 He wore a circlet on his brow。 His clothes； though simple in form； were well…made and of good cloth。
As with the man in the dragon's lair； Simon felt a twinge of recognition。 Before the dream； he had never seen this person…yet； in some way； he knew him。
The man looked up from his reading as two other figures entered the room。 One； an old woman with her white hair caught up in a ragged scarf； came forward and kneeled at the man's feet。 He put his book aside； then stood and gave the woman his hand to help her up。 After saying a' few words that Simon could not hear…as with the dragon…dream； all these shapes seemed voiceless and remote…the man walked across the chamber and squatted beside the old woman's panion； a little girl of seven or eight years。 She had been crying； her eyes were puffy and her lip trembled with anger or fright。 She avoided the man's gaze； pulling fitfully at her reddish hair。 She； too； wore simple clothing； an unadorned dark dress； but despite her disarray she looked well cared for。 Her feet were bare。
At last the man reached out his arms for her。 She hesitated； then flung herself at him and buried her face against his chest； crying。 Tears came to the man as well； and he held her for a long time； stroking her back。 At last； with clear reluctance； he let her go and stood。 The girl ran from the room。 The man watched her go； then turned to the old woman。 Without saying another word； he slipped a thin golden ring from his finger and gave it to her； she nodded and wrapped her fingers around it as he leaned down and kissed her forehead。 She bowed to him； then； as if her own posure was fast slipping； she turned and hurried away。
After a long moment the man walked to a book…covered chest that lay beside the wall； opened it； and withdrew a sheathed sword。 Simon recognized it immediately： he had seen that sparsely decorated hilt only moments before； standing in a dragon's breast。 The man held the sword carefully； but did not look at it for more than a moment； instead； he cocked his head as though he heard something。 He made the Tree sign with slow deliberatrbn； lips moving in what might have been prayer； then returned to his seat。 He set the sword across his lap； then picked up his book and opened it； spreading it atop the sword。 But for the set of his jaw and the faintest tremor in his fingers as he turned the pages； he might have been thinking only of a good night's sleep…but Simon knew that he was waiting for something far different。 The scene wavered and dissipated like smoke。
〃Do you see？ Do you understand now？〃 the angel asked； impatient as a child。
Simon felt as though he groped at a large sack。 Something was inside it； and he could feel strange corners and significant bumps； but just when he thought he knew what it contained； his imagination failed。 He had been in the gray fog a long time。 Thinking was difficult…and it was hard to care。
〃I don't know。 Why can't you just tell me； angel？〃 〃It is not the way。 These truths are too strong； the myths and lies around them too great。 They are surrounded on all sides by walls I cannot explain； Simon。 You must see the