Alone, standing amid the wreckage of the House of Urantz, the last of Valni's strength ebbed. She trembled, a young girl wearing a parvis oil soaked sack dress, her head hanging forward, her long hair caught in a shaft of sunlight. Slowly she descended to her knees, sinking them in the ash and charcoal which covered the floor of the fire gutted hall. The fire and smoke blackened sculptures of her ancestors and her parents remained on their pedestals where the Mools had left them in dread of magic. The stone eyes stared blankly at the scarred and blackened opposite walls. Gradually the girl toppled forward and stretched out amid the charred debris, wriggling in it and covering herself with it despairingly. Her weeping was a lone, unheard anguish, lost on the empty plain, the last sound of a living Latannese between the horizons.