I broke in. "Do you remember Cagu? Maybe you remember him as a newman, young, handsome, like a god out of some old legend. You've seen him live his life. Was it a good life? Did the promise of youth ever get paid off?" Gope closed his eyes. "Stop," he said. "This is bad, bad...." "'And the deaths they died I have watched beside, and the lives they led were mine,'" I quoted. "Are you proud of them? And what about yourself? Don't you ever wonder what you might have been ... back in the Good Time?" "Who are you?" asked Gope, his eyes fixed on mine. "You speak Old Vallonian, you rake up the forbidden knowledge, and challenge the very Powers...." He got to his feet. "I could have you immured, Drgon. I could hand you to the Greymen, for a fate I shudder to name." He turned and walked the length of the room restlessly, then turned back to me and stopped. "Matters stand ill with this fair world," he said. "Legend tells us that once men lived as the High Gods on Vallon. There was a mighty Owner, Rthr of all Vallon. It is whispered that he will come again--" "Your legends are all true. You can take my word for that! But that doesn't mean some supernatural sugar daddy is going to come along and bail you out. And don't get the idea I think I'm the fabled answer to prayers. All I mean is that once upon a time Vallon was a good place to live and it could be again. Right now, it's like a land under an enchantment--and you sleeping beauties need waking up. Your cities and roads and ships are still here, intact. But nobody knows how to run them and you're all afraid to try. Who scared you off? Who started the rumors? What broke down the memory recording system? Why can't we all go to Okk-Hamiloth and use the Archives to give everybody back what he's lost--" "These are dread words," said Gope. "There must be somebody behind it. Or there was once. Who is he?" Gope thought. "There is one man pre-eminent among us: the Great Owner, Owner of Owners: Ommodurad by name. Where he dwells I know not. This is a secret possessed only by his intimates." "What does he look like? How do I get to see him?" Gope shook his head. "I have seen him but once, closely cowled. He is a tall man, and silent. 'Tis said--" Gope lowered his voice, "--by his black arts he possesses all his lives. An aura of dread hangs about him--" "Never mind that jazz," I said. "He's a man, like other men. Stick a knife between his ribs and you put an end to him, aura and all." "I do not like this talk of death. Let the doer of evil deeds be immured; it is sufficient." "First let's find him. How can I get close to him?" "There are those Owners who are his confidants," said Gope, "his trusted agents. It is through them that we small Owners learn of his will." "Can we enlist one of them?" "Never. They are bound to him by ties of darkness, spells and incantations."