“You have won the battle,” it said loudly, “But you’ve not yet won the war.”
Kamal and Salan looked at each other. They had killed the shadar-lord, but would it heal the city? Only time would tell. Salan hoped, and hope was all he needed.
The next morning a rider on a horse rode through the city gates.
“The magic is returning!” he exclaimed, “This morning, a group of raiders crossed the river. A cloud of fire promptly burnt them to ash!”
Salan heard similar tidings from the gatekeeper.
“The wall is healing itself!” he said. “The stone is strengthening and recovering its luster!”
The Tower Guards similarly reported that whenever they were cut or bruised their wounds rapidly healed. The magic returned, and the good days came again.
That morning Salan purchased some eggs from the market for a few silver moons, fresh from the outlying farms. Then, heading home, he boiled them in a pot for breakfast as he promised and salted them lightly. He, Dala, and Darmela ate happily in the heat of the day.
“When are you going back to work?” said his wife, beautiful in the sun’s warm light, her silken black hair cast about her shoulders. She smiled.
“I think I’m going to take a break for a whole week,” the Tower Captain said with a warm and joyful grin. “We’ll spend some time as a family.”