The only difference was, for the shadows, their robes were their whole identity. It covered every inch of their body. Beam had not even been able to see whether they wore shoes or not. Nor had he been able to see their faces. They had drifted across the earth like phantoms. The memory was enough to give Beam chills by itself.
Merely on appearance alone, he could not deduce that the Elder was indeed involved. But he could not shake that terrible feeling of foreboding he saw when he looked at the man. He studied him closely now, as he walked. He lumbered along, with that staff of his, making a show of his slow movements, every step seeming to take all his strength.
But as he looked more closely now, Beam thought his movements to be exaggerated, to the point of unnatural. He found himself thinking that the Elder was surely fitter than he made himself appear.
