The Waleher
thirty-foot stone Watcher，
sting guard on the Border
of Thimhallan， had seen with his eyes of rock many strange
sights over the last nineteen years. He had been here only
nineteen years， this Watcher. Once a human， a catalyst， his
crime had been one of passion. He had loved a woman， com-
mitted the unpardonable sin of physically joining with her，
and produced a child. He had beer sentenced to the Turning，
wherein his living flesh was transformed to living stone. He
was destined to stand forever at the Border， staring into the
realm of Beyond -- the realm of death whose sweet peace and
rest he would never know.
This Watcher thought back to the first six years of his
Turning. Six years of unendurable emptiness， of rarely seeing
a human， much less hearing a human voice. Sixyears of mind
and soul raging inside their stone prison. These six years
passed， and a woman brought a child to his feet. The child
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