The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) Read Online Free PDF

supported his course of action. However, the fact that any of us question or even argue either belief does not necessarily mean our loyalties are at odds.”
    Alwen acknowledged his point with a sideways tilt of her head. “And yet, there was a defection, and Machreth’s recent insurrection had support. Clearly there are ardent believers who have been willing to take the issue beyond argument. How many of them remain within our walls?”
    “That there is no answer to this question is a worry that plagues us all day and night, Sovereign,” Ynyr agreed. “Save your interrogating every one of the sixty-odd Stewards who remain, we may never know.”
    Glain was surprised by Ynyr’s not-so-subtle reference to Alwen’s power over the psyche, which he knew as well as anyone she would never employ in such a way.
    He raised his hands in petition. “If any one of us here were called to account for the contents of our thoughts, how might we be judged? In the end, it is our actions that define our loyalties .”
    Alwen nodded. “Every Steward here has sworn an oath to the Ancients and to the protection of the prophecy. Until I have evidence of wrongdoing, I take them all at their word. As Madoc would say, trust is the very essence of faith.”
    “When Machreth attacked Madoc and the Fane, he attacked us all,” Verica offered, “including his collaborators.”
    “Even so,” Glain said, urging caution, “we should assume there are some who would still join him if they could.”
    Alwen sighed. “I’m afraid this is a risk with which we must live. Even if I were to offer his supporters amnesty and let them go, I doubt any of them would reveal themselves. Nor would they leave the safety of the Fane.” Alwen straightened in her chair as though to signal her authority and then stood. “We have more urgent concerns. Come.”
    Glain and the others followed Alwen to the adjacent chamber —once Madoc’s personal scriptorium—to the massive hornbeam and hazelwood desk that now anchored its northeast corner. Alwen had ordered it moved out of the receptory in order to work in private.
    “I have been studying the ancestry of the Stewardry.” Alwen settled herself in the seat behind the desk and gestured to the giant leather-bound tome that lay open before her. “This ledger is the official chronology of the founding bloodlines. Naturally, there are five separate delineations, each beginning with the Ancient of origin and continuing with the direct descendants of every generation that follows. The last permanent entries are the known births from each clan that mark the beginning of Madoc’s era, as recorded by his predecessor.”
    Alwen reached for a small stack of parchment rolls and gathered them into her hands. “Each of these is a record of the current generation , the offspring of the last hundred or so years. Those among us who are descendants of the Ancients, like myself, are named here. Most of our membership, however, are wildlings and halflings. The founding bloodlines have grown so thin they are nearly extinct.”
    “Wildlings?” Verica’s lack of training showed itself in the worst possible moments, but Glain had only herself to blame for that.
    “Mages born at random to plain folk.” Ynyr tried to satisfy her with the shortest possible answer and minimize the embarrassment of her ignorance. “A halfling is bred when a mage mates with plain folk, but a wildling is a true mage that just naturally springs up. It happens from time to time.”
    “Many people in these parts have sorcerer’s blood in their family lines and either do not know it or do not admit so.” Alwen was ever kind and always welcoming of an opportunity to teach. “Long ago, when the Stewardry was still known to the world, it was common for children who showed an inclination toward magic to be brought to us. But eventually, a mage birth became a dangerous thing, and to keep themselves from being found out, the families began to abandon the