STYLITE of the oldest rank, kin to the Solitary Elder and the Elder of the Arch, and the last of his line left upright. He appeareth as a single blunt tower of pale and cracked stone, hooded at the crown like a cowled head bowed forward, set alone in a sea of flat and rust-colored land beneath a hard infrared sky; a few worn steps approach his foot, and no other thing rises to meet him. His office is to keep the place that all his brethren have abandoned, to stand when standing has no purpose, and to mark by his stubborn height how far the rest have fallen. Summon him for the strength that outlasts its reason. He guards an empty plain; he is fortress, sentinel, and grave; he watches, and is watched by nothing.
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