He barely managed to hide his joy. He had had to wait a long time for this moment. All these countless years, the Chronicler had mistaken him for his son, but he knew better. He was not born to be a Chronicler. No, he was a Dreamer. While his "father" recorded the history of Tirakan as it happened, he looked over his shoulder and dreamed of how it might continue. How amazed he was to find that from time to time one of his sneering little ideas found its way out of his dreams and into Tirakan's world. This happened quite rarely, an outrage here, a demonic pact there - trifles in his eyes. But for him it was a sign of his destiny.