The Singer of All Songs

It seems to me them that sees an evil thing unfold and don't do nothin' to prevent it, are just as bad as them that does the evil.

all the gods are the same unknowable mystery, just as each face of a jewel strikes light in a different direction

...There is a tale, as old as the Ancient Ones themselves, that one would arise who has that gift: to sing all the chantments, the high notes and the low, the swift rhythms and the slow. And this person would be more powerful than even the Ancient Ones were, as powerful as the gods themselves.

Calwyn stopped in her tracks, and her song faltered on her lips. For the space of a heartbeat she thought she must be dreaming; the steady chantment she’d been singing without pause since dawn jerked almost into silence.

Calwyn felt suddenly very solemn and serious. Usually during lessons and lectures she felt only a fierce desire to be elsewhere or an irresistible urge to fidget, but now she sat as still as a statue, sensing that what Marna was about to tell her was more important, and certainly more interesting, than herb lore or weaving patterns.