542 (Ralquez continued)

The morrow was as bright as they’d both prayed.

Both native starved and glutted rogue had wished

for something nearly picturesque as this

to seal the day they’d grasp what they’d assayed.

Fierce gleaming Tolno left no bit of shade,

save in the heart of he whose shadows wist

beside the heart he had deftly dismissed,

elsewhere besides, no cunning was purveyed.

So Wrenogal rode in upon the spoil

to which his voyage clung: the very steed

that rendered both reward and trick for toil,

that e’en Zlyr could not guess in all his greed.

The beat of dragon wings would halfway foil

the soil where the rogue had set a seed.