CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Daskalos had not always been called “Teacher.” He’d worn other names in the long years he’d been alive, earning them and choosing them, putting them on and off again the way another man might have worn cloaks. In the war, they had called him Weapon Shaper rather than Teacher, because of the things he had crafted to bring down the Ancient Ones.
Now, he would craft a weapon worthy of both names.
He followed the routes through his home with the ease of long memory, setting aside a defense here, stepping around one there. His space beneath the mountain was more complicated than people thought, reaching out into other spaces in ways that he’d learned from the Ancient Ones, and then built on with knowledge he’d gained for himself. There were doorways beside him that seemed to
