Agatha called me an empty nester. She thought that, for me, the loss of my daughter to college, to growing up, was like losing the last remnant of her...mother. She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't entirely right either.When Katherine called, she made excuses--to ask for money, to ask for one book or another from her shelf to be sent up to her. But we spoke for long hours on the telephone about everything. It still wasn't enough.One day, not a month into the semester, I announced that Katherine had. His feet made no noise as he moved through the shadows, and at last he reached the house that he was seeking. It lay far from the central plaza, well away from the homes of the welltodo farmers whose wives who sat on Arlund's council."Who's there?" The voice that answered his tapping at the door frame sounded quietly apprehensive."Mak the Hunter, son of Chamur the Strong."The man who opened the door was even shorter than Mak, and slender, his graying hair and wrinkled face betraying his. More

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