“Mistress, my condolences,” he said, and bowed to her.

“Thank you,” Lara said. “Now you three must go and pay your farewells to Magnus Hauk. He has sheltered you all these many years.”

“Indeed,” Dasras replied. “It is only right, Mistress.”

“We must hurry, for his vessel will set sail at sunset,” Lara told them. Then, grasping a handful of the stallion’s thick, silvery-white mane, she vaulted onto his back, reaching for her sword and staff, which she had leaned against the stall wall.

There was no one in the stables as all were at the feast, but had there been no one would have been startled by the stable doors which opened before them. Lara rode out onto the stone quay, and up the gangway onto the deck of the ship. It bobbed gently in the flat sea about it. Lara slid off Dasras’s back.

The stallion bent his head, and touched the forehead of the dead man with his velvety muzzle. “May your journey be a safe one, Magnus Hauk. May your destination be all that you could imagine. I thank you for your kindness and your generosity to me.”

The wood staff, Verica, opened his eyes, staring down at the Dominus. “Be at peace, mortal,” he said.

Lara’s sword, Andraste, began to sing softly, her ruby eyes glowing. Usually when Andraste sang it was in a deep voice, and her song was one of threatening terror and imminent doom to all who heard it. Now, however, the voice she sang with was sweeter than honey, her words reassuring. “You have earned your place among those few especial mortals, Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah. Your progeny will honor your name forever. Walk in the light you have made yourself by your good deeds and your good heart. I bid you farewell!”

Lara’s eyes misted briefly. Andraste’s tribute to Magnus Hauk had come from the very core of the magic weapon.