When she was dying.
Feldon thought of Loran and the life she spent with him, of the tales of her youth, of their work and lives together. The joy of life with her and the sadness of her departure felt like a great bubble rising within him. He fed his memories of the land into that bubble, memories of the mountains, the forests and shore, the swamps and the temple, and he filled it with power and life.
When Feldon opened his eyes, Loran was there. She was perfect and whole and as young as when he first met her at the gates of Terisia City.
She gave him a knowing smile and said, "Why am I here?"
"You died," said Feldon, his voice choking as he spoke.
She nodded and said, "I seem to remember that. Why am I here?"
"You're here because I missed you," said Feldon.
"I missed you as well," replied the spell-Loran, and she reached out to him.
Despite himself, Feldon shrank from her embrace. She paused, then asked, "What's wrong?"
"You're not her," he said at last.
"No, I am not," she said, her voice in the lilting Argivian accent he remembered. "We both know that, and you know that I could be nothing less than what you remember of her. You remember her as being honest and strong. I am the sum of her, taken through your feelings. I am what you remember."
"You are memories," sighed Feldon, "and though you are pleasant memories, I must leave you as memories. If you are here, you are no more than the automaton in the garden-unliving, an imitation of what was. I'm sorry. I went to so much trouble to bring you about, but I know that I cannot keep you."
"Then why am I here?" she said.
"You are here," said Feldon, taking a deep breath, "so that I can say good-bye."
The spell-Loran paused, then smiled slightly. "I understand," she said at last.
Feldon crossed to her and embraced her. She felt very much like Loran as he had known her. All that was Loran in his memories was encased in the spell-creature he had created.
When they parted, there were tears in both of their eyes.
"Good-bye," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Good-bye," she replied.
Feldon allowed the spell to elapse, and the form of Loran began to dissolve.
"I understand," he said to her vanishing form. "At last, I think I understand."
All that was left was a knowing, soft smile. Then that was gone as well.
Feldon returned to the work in his library and workshop, taking up small matters that had been abandoned ages ago. In a few weeks, the scholar appeared at Feldon's doorstep and was amused to see that save for the servants, Feldon was alone.
After a meal the birdlike scholar asked, "What became of your lost love?"
"She was lost," said Feldon with a deep sigh, "and it was beyond my power to bring her back. It was beyond my desire. But I had a chance to say good-bye."
"That is what you truly wanted?" asked the scholar.
"That is what I truly wanted," said Feldon.
The scholar spent three weeks in Feldon's library and then left, but he promised to send interested students to the grizzled man's home. Every so often some would-be scholar or mage would appear, and Feldon, remembering his promise, would let the wizard go through the library. Over dinner he would tell his own story of what he had learned about magic.
Sometimes the aspiring mage would listen politely, sometimes intently. Occasionally, after everyone had gone to bed, a mage would creep down and find Feldon sitting by the fire. The flames twisted into the form of a smile, a soft and knowing smile.
And Feldon, the ancient wizard, seemed to be content.