Gnarl shrugged. “That there are dark deep places in the Elemental Chaos-the Abyss, for one. And somewhere is hidden an artifact that can bind together a part of the Elemental Chaos, forge it magically into an order that will make a man lord of a new realm. Glorysade. My uncle told me my destiny might be mingled with Glorysade-if it were true…”

“The tale is true! You have heard of me-you know I was once a warlock of power. If you will only trust me.”

Gnarl cleared his throat. “Ah, trust.” He smiled apologetically and made a gallant flourish with his hand. “A term resonant of reliability, assurance, certitude-how I’d love to feel all of that! But ‘trust’ also raises the possibility of the opposite… mistrust. Unreliability. Lack of assurance-”

He could hear Sernos gritting his fangs. “Set aside this affected glibness and give me your answer! Think of your life as it is now-and think of what it could be! Yes, yes, you must trust me-but if you trust no one, you will never cease having to empty chamber pots in this ramshackle inn! Will you undertake the mission-or won’t you?”

Gnarl was a person of outsized ambitions, which was why he’d left the sleepy hamlet Desul Torey and the doubtful protection of Baron Stockmer. But this-should he risk it? He’d never entered the Abyss-the Abyss was itself a legend, and the legend was a grim one. But if Glorysade was real-if he could transform the Chaos into a land over which he could rule-it would be worth the risk. It was true, after all, that Sernos was a famed warlock, well known in Fallcrest-and Glorysade seemed to Gnarl a name that tingled with destiny, just as his uncle had said.

He was known for grandiose speaking-and impulsiveness. He said, “Very well. Blow the trumpets of Glorysade! The time for rejoicing is here. Gnarl the Cull will undertake the mission!”