As would Darkhun, Brand, and Astargoth, he reminded himself.
In particular he thought of Angorain, Normandon's oldest and fairest city. His home. It was by far the oldest living city in all the Four Kingdoms. Its tall white towers and fluttering standards appeared as old and new as time itself. Here was the great center of learning and magic in the Four Kingdoms. It was built shortly after the fall of ancient Morag, when the first elves and Wizards had returned to this land.
While the returning elf king dwelt there, the kingdom of Normandon flourished, for he was powerful yet. But after his passing, his line failed, and his kindred seemed unable to master the occult knowledge. Angorain too would eventually fail.
"Well, it is time," said Anest, rising from the table, a note of reluctance in his voice.
"I still do not understand what you're going to do out there in the Black Wood," Grol said, wiping crumbs from his beard with the back of his hand. "What is it you mean to summon?"
"The Power of the Black Wood," said Anest, simply.
"But what IS it?" asked Grol, perplexed. "What form will it take?"
Anest looked to Palindor, who studied him with an eyebrow cocked. "That is up to the forest," said Palindor. "And no, Grol, I am being neither ironic nor evasive when I say this. It cannot be any plainer said, unless Lily were to speak words that are unknown to my ears."